


The Legend of Protectors

by Yukio



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Big Bang Challenge, Bonding, Boys In Love, Cuddling & Snuggling, Demons, Dog Sam Winchester, Eventual Happy Ending, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Knotting, M/M, Minor Character Death, Possessive Behavior, Romance, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Slow Build, Soulmates, Supernatural and J2 Big Bang Challenge 2015, True Love, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 00:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 265,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4543392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yukio/pseuds/Yukio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean live in an alternate supernatural universe where there is born a special group of people who are stronger than normal humans, faster and need a good fight to not go crazy. They are called Warriors. When Warriors prove their bravery and fighting abilities, they'll get a soulmate called Protector. Protectors are possessed by animal spirits, they can turn into animals and their task is to protect their Warriors. They are also in love with their Warriors. Dean is a Warrior and Sam is his Protector. The problem with the world is that Protectors are being attacked by demons led by the Yellow-Eyed Demon, who is responsible for Mary's death and later on also for John's. Sam and Dean have to stop him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Warrior and His Protector

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank the amazing artist kaelysta who created the wonderful art for the story. Check her gallery: http://kaelysta.livejournal.com/69665.html

 

There was a legend. An old war legend, saying that when a soul of a Warrior was born into the world, spirits gathered around its cradle and watched the soul’s steps in its new life, until the day when the soul recognized the animal in its heart and bonded with an animal spirit – the Warrior’s Protector. After that, the animal spirit found a mother of his earthbound body and nine months later came into the world to watch over its Warrior and to protect them with its own life.

But the world kept changing and there was less and less need for Warriors and thus for their Protectors until there were so few of them that they were considered to be a myth.

Dean Winchester wasn’t even four years old when he saw a group of five-year-old bullies tormenting a younger girl in a playground near his home. It was the first time he heard the call of his heart to help innocent and helpless ones. While he fought for her, the girl ran home, terrified, to call her mother. It cost Dean a lot of bruises (and a telling off from the girl’s mom for bullying her daughter, because the true bullies had run away and the girl stayed home), but the damsel in distress was saved .The spirits saw the bravery of the little boy and chose his “brother in soul” from among them. Nine months later Sam Winchester was born.

Sam Winchester didn’t walk until he was two years old. But he was the world’s master in crawling on all fours, especially if Dean was there waiting for him at the end of his track. He didn’t speak until he was four and a half, but he loved annoying his brother with howling just for fun in the middle of the night. He also loved sneaking up on him from behind Dean’s back and scaring him with a dog bark, and then play-fighting and learning that the older brother had an advantage of size, age and experience. Naturally, his first word was ‘Dean’.

Sam Winchester also loved games. He especially loved playing with his brother. He hated when other children joined their game and Dean paid more attention to them than Sam. Sam always came up with a plan to monopolize his brother (based on looking downright scary though Dean said he looked retarded and chasing the other kids away) – sometimes it worked, but usually Dean got angry and didn’t talk to Sam for the rest of the day. Sam could take the angry outbursts, but Dean not talking to him was a true hell on earth. Then, when he sneaked into Dean’s bed at night for the usual good night kiss – the habit that neither of them remembered how and when it had begun – he apologized and promised not to scare other kids away ever again (and breaking the promise the very next time he thought Dean was interested in someone else more than in his little brother). Dean always sighed (knowing already that Sam was a lost case), kissed Sam’s forehead, and sent him back to his own bed.

Sam didn’t like losing his brother from his radar. To be absolutely truthful, Sam hated it from the bottom of his heart. Not knowing where Dean was and what he was doing was his worst nightmare. He simply needed to know that Dean was all right. And, according to Sam’s logic, Dean could be all right only when Sam was close. That was why Sam hated school long before he started going there. School was the place that imprisoned his brother for a long time while Sam tormented their mom with whining and complaining and running from home if Mary didn’t keep a careful eye on him. Luckily, she always noticed his absence soon and brought him back before he could get any further than to their neighbor’s house. Thanks to multiple attempts he perfected his escaping techniques, but with years of practice, Mary’s skills to prevent Sam from running after his brother also improved.

Therefore Sam couldn’t wait until his first day at school, fantasizing about how he and Dean would be together, and no one and nothing would separate them. They would sit close to each other, learn all the shit kids learned at school, do homework together, helping each other with difficult tasks. It would all be just perfect.

Sam didn’t count that he would have to spend a whole day in a different classroom than Dean. Even his locker was far away from Dean’s. _Why?!?_ Life was so unfair… When Dean brought him back to his class (because there was no chance Sam was going on his own, gripping Dean’s hand like his life depended on it), he thought there must be something wrong with the world if there existed people who believed he and Dean should be able to spend some time away from each other. That it would be healthy for both of them. Only Sam knew how wrong they were. His place was by Dean’s side and nowhere else. Without Dean, the world was gray, and there was nothing worth doing or even thinking about. Sam’s world was as simple as that, it was only the people they dealt with who made it complicated.

When he sneaked into Dean’s bed after that horrible first day and Dean kissed his forehead, Sam lingered a minute longer to ask, “Why can’t I be in a class with you?”

“Because there are a lot of things I’ve already learned and you haven’t.”

“And when I learn them?”

“I’ll still know more things than you. You can’t catch up, Sam, give it up,” Dean said and rolled on his other side, turning his back to Sam.

“Why can’t I?” Sam pretended he didn’t get Dean’s obvious sigh indicating that the conversation was over.

“Because it’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“Because you would have to have some sort of a superbrain to be able to learn all that crap in a short time,” Dean said and yawned ostentatiously.

“I can try,” Sam said in a small but hopeful voice.

Dean looked at him over his shoulder and smirked. “Sure, you can do that.” Then he sighed, nuzzling his pillow. “Now, if you want to stay in my bed, be quiet and go to sleep.”

Sam’s heart made a somersault. He had never even tried to hope Dean would ever let him stay in his bed. He smiled and buried himself deeper into the warmth under the covers, the nice smell of his brother lulling him to sleep.

When Mary came to check on her sons later in the night, she found them sound asleep, facing each other, Dean’s hand almost touching Sam’s like he was reaching for him but couldn’t decide whether he should do it or not, while there was as a happy smile on Sam’s face as Mary had ever seen before. She needed only one phone call to the right person to confirm her strong suspicion.

Sam hated school more and more every day and he had decided to work his little ass off until he caught up with Dean’s class despite Dean’s good advice to simply let it go. A few days later after the boys went to sleep ,Mary sat down on the couch next to her husband John, snuggling up to him like a big kitten, both cradling a bottle of beer, and she started a conversation.

“I called Bobby Singer. He thinks the same,” she said, her eyes fixed on the TV, but not watching.

John turned to her, staring at her for a long time, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he asked, “You mean the Warrior-Protector crap? It’s not true anymore, Mary. Protectors died out.”

Mary stopped hypnotizing the TV screen, giving John a pointed look. “Just because yours has never found you doesn’t mean they all are gone. Sammy’s obviously one of them.”

“Mary…”

“John.”

“He’s never shifted,” John objected.

“Is his obsession with Dean not enough?” Mary asked, raising her eyebrow.

“Brother complex,” John said lightly and, taking a sip from his beer, turned back to the TV screen.

“John, he used to BARK before he learned to speak. Have you ever seen him cry? I mean actually burst into tears like kids usually do. He’s always whined like an injured puppy. He’s a dog spirit, I’m telling you. And he needs training. They both do.”

John sighed, stretching his legs in front of him. “What if you are wrong? Do you really wanna take their childhood away?” He asked her in a serious tone.

Mary’s expression softened and John could see sorrow in her eyes. “No. I want them to have a carefree childhood, but I can’t ignore it anymore. If I’m right and they are a Warrior and a Protector, it as good as seals their destiny. They need to know how to deal with it.”

John gave Mary a scrutinizing look. “And you know exactly how to deal with it.”

Mary glared and looked away. “I just want to protect my children. And make sure they’ll be able to protect themselves when I’m not around anymore.”

“I know, honey,” John said in a placatory tone, winding his arm around his wife’s shoulders and pulling her closer. At first, she was reluctant, but then she gave in and leaned against his side, resting the bottom of the beer bottle in her hand against John’s thigh. “I have an idea. Let’s give them time till the end of the school year. Then we’ll take them to Singer and we’ll see what he says… If he’s positive they are what you say they are, we can start talking about the training. But until then I would let them be. They’re just kids.” He looked at Mary, his eyes asking her for her opinion.

She was silent for a long time, just looking at him and thinking, until she finally spoke again. “Fine, let’s do it as you say.”

He smiled at her and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you.”

She smiled back. “It’s my children, too. I want them happy as much as you do.”

“I know.”

Mary settled comfortably against John’s side and they both pretended they were watching the crappy soap opera that was on the TV while, in reality, they were both deep in thought.

Neither of the boys knew about this discussion. Maybe if they had, they would have been able to understand the power of the bond between them and the feelings it accompanied.

And maybe they wouldn’t. They were still kids after all…

In his first year Sam managed to become the best pupil in his class, but to his greatest disappointment, he didn’t manage to be assigned into Dean’s class as he had dreamed about despite his great effort. He and Dean used to do homework together, and while Dean was struggling with his school projects and essays, Sam finished his work and then tried hard to understand the things from Dean’s textbooks, bugging Dean with a lot of questions. John and Mary waited for the moment when Dean lost his patience and sent Sam away. Surprisingly, it never happened. Maybe it was the awestruck look Dean got when he tried to explain anything to his younger sibling, or the adoration that almost never leaved Sam’s face when he looked at Dean. And maybe Dean just enjoyed his role of the older brother. Whatever it was, Sam’s curious questions and his eagerness to understand everything Dean had to learn and Dean’s constant explaining also helped Dean with his schoolwork. Therefore Mary and John never told Sam to leave his brother alone when Dean was doing his homework. Instead they watched them with a careful eye, listened to them and the people around them with a sharp ear, trying to figure out the truth behind their relationship. If Mary was right and Sam was really Dean’s Protector, the confusing thing was that it was Dean who usually had to pull his brother’s little ass out of trouble.

“Maybe that’s it,” Mary said one summer evening before the day of their family trip to Sioux Falls, South Dakota. “Maybe Dean protecting Sam protects Dean from getting into trouble himself.”

“That sentence is too complicated even for me,” John said as he packed their shotguns and rock salt shells into a duffel bag.

“Think about it. It wasn’t so long ago that Dean had a row with the neighbor’s boy. There would’ve been a fight if Sammy hadn’t interfered. He looked like a pissed-off puppy, too funny and too cute for his own good. I think everyone was too surprised to swing a fist. Except Sammy, of course, who was dragged home by Dean before he could start the brawl. I watched them from the window while you were in the garage, fixing the Impala. You know it wasn’t the first time something like that happened.”

John sighed. “Okay, I get it. We’re going to see Bobby tomorrow, anyway. He can study the boys as much as he wants while they’re there. I hope the old man’s junkyard will be interesting enough for them…”

“Sammy will be ecstatic since he’ll have Dean just for himself,” Mary said with a smirk.

“I kinda hope Dean would persuade Sammy into a game rather than let him poke his little nose into Dean’s textbooks,” John responded in a serious tone.

“Maybe Sammy will show interest in Bobby’s large book collection,” Mary said with a gentle smile. She, too, hoped Sam would stop the nonsense with the same class.

“Sounds better than the textbooks. Definitely more useful,” John said appreciatively.

“More useful for a hunter,” Mary said blankly.

John gave her a scrutinizing look. “Do you miss hunting?”

She shrugged. “Not much.” Her eyes met his. “It’s you who miss a good fight,” she said softly, putting a hunting knife next to the shotguns in the duffel bag.

John’s silence was enough of a confirmation.

At Bobby’s, Sam, indeed, was more than excited about the hunter’s books, and Dean couldn’t wait until he was allowed to go explore the salvage yard.

“Would you mind if we leave them here with you while we hunt some critters in the neighborhood?” John asked as he watched his sons bent over one of Bobby’s heavy books.

“Not at all. If you idjits don’t get killed in the process,” said the hunter, pouring each of them a shot of whiskey.

A half hour later, after Mary kissed her sons goodbye while John was waiting for her in the Impala, Bobby told her, “I know that it’s a necessity for John. But you’re not a Warrior, Mary. You’re just a Fighter, you fight only when you must. There’s no need for you to go out there. Your sons need you.”

Mary stopped for a moment on her way toward the front door, giving Bobby a long look. “Isn’t the average lifespan of a pair of hunters longer than of a solo hunter?”

“Usually, yes,” Bobby said carefully.

Mary glanced at her sons. “I just want to protect my family. I know the boys are safe with you…” she looked back at Bobby. “I want to make sure their father will come back in one piece.”

“Make sure their mother will come back in one piece, too,” Bobby said resignedly.

Mary smiled at him. “I will,” she promised and left the house.

Bobby sighed heavily and entered the living room where Dean and Sam built a bunker consisting of an old blanket cast over Bobby’s huge desk. Bobby could hear them whispering something, a big secret of life and the universe which only children could understand.

“Hey, kiddos, why don’t you play outside?”

Silence fell behind the blanket curtain and a small, freckled nose poked out from behind it. “Sammy said there’d be a storm.”

“It won’t,” Bobby said, glancing out of the window.

“It will,” the offended voice of the younger boy sounded. “You’ll see.”

Bobby did see. It didn’t take long and the sky hid behind heavy, gray clouds, and Bobby could hear thunders in the distance.

“How did you know?” he asked Sam, who only shrugged and hurried after Dean so that the older boy didn’t eat all the cookies Mary had left for them alone.

Bobby put the boys into the guest room with a big double bed. The kids had a holiday, so he didn’t send them to bed sooner than Dean was yawning wildly and Sam was falling asleep every now and then over the game of scrabble. Yet, when he passed the door of the guest room about midnight, he could hear their muffled whispers. Later in the night, when he finally went to bed himself, no sound was coming from the room anymore. Bobby opened the door a little and peeked in. Both boys, sound asleep, were huddled under the covers on Dean’s side of the bed and facing each other. Bobby watched them for a while until he finally moved into his room.

Having the boys around was a nice change in Bobby’s lonely life. They were quite satisfied with each other, they didn’t bother Bobby when he was doing his research or anything else. Yes, they used to bicker just like any siblings did, but that was also the only time they raised their voices. But everything was always over before he could get annoyed with them and tell them to shut the hell up.

For three days he left them alone to their own games and activities – which would be absolutely okay if they tended to leave the house once in a while. But every time Bobby checked on them, he always found them with one of his heavy books open and either they were discussing something, or Sam was reading (= trying to read) the book and Dean looking absolutely bored, but for some reason unwilling to leave his little brother alone. In the afternoon of the third day, when Bobby found Dean sprawled on the floor and gazing at the ceiling and Sam with his nose in _The Occultism in South African Tribes,_ he decided it was enough. He came to Sam and shut the book resolutely, the thud startling Dean and making him sit up.

“Enough of the nonsense, boys. It’s a beautiful day and you’re wasting it like this again? Go the hell out and have fun,” he said, and while Dean looked kind of pleased as he rose to his feet, Sam looked at Bobby reproachfully.

“But I want to….”

“Say ‘read’ and you’ll be banned from this room until you go back home,” Bobby threatened.

Sam glared, but said nothing. He followed his brother, whose eyes were suddenly shining with glee, out of the room. Bobby shook his head, deciding he’d try to figure out the reason for Dean’s sudden cheerfulness later. Now he had some work to do.

The boys didn’t come back into the house until it was dark, both dirty, covered with dust and car oil, and Bobby could easily imagine what they had been doing the whole time out. He sent them directly into the bathroom. Clean and dressed in their PJs, they joined Bobby in the living room, Sam going right for the book he had been reading before.

“Okay, little Einstein, time to have a serious chat here,” Bobby said as he took the book out of Sam’s hands. He noticed Dean backing to the door. “No need to leave the room, Dean, you’re invited to the party. Come here and sit down.”

Dean pouted, but sat down on the couch where Sam joined him.

“I couldn’t not notice how you two enjoyed your time out,” Bobby started, giving the boys a strict look. Dean looked away, maybe a little bit guiltily, while Sam lowered his head, his hands folded in his lap. He was trying to look indifferent, but he was too tense for someone who gave a shit about his surroundings.

“Tomorrow, I want you to play outside again, capiche? I don’t want to see you inside except for lunch or dinner.”

The corners of Dean’s mouth were twitching in a suppressed grin, while Sam was looking daggers at the carpet in front of him.

“When I was upstairs today to air your room and make the bed, I found textbooks for sixth grade students, and I highly doubt Dean brought them with him. Sam, do you know something about it?” Bobby continued, eying the younger boy carefully.

Sam stayed stubbornly quiet.

“Fine then. I confiscate them and I’ll give them directly to your parents when they return.”

The horrorstruck face Sam gave him was priceless. “But…”

“Silence,” Bobby said strictly. “Sam, you shouldn’t waste your holiday on books you can’t even understand…”

“But I want…”

“I know what you want,” Bobby interrupted the youngest Winchester, “and I’m telling you, forget it. It’s not worth the effort.”

Sam glared like he didn’t want anything else than to grow fangs and bite Bobby in the ass.

“I told you,” Dean’s quiet voice sounded into the tense quietness in the room. For a change, Sam was glaring at his brother, but the violence disappeared from his gaze. He was only annoyed.

“You said I could try,” he said with reproach.

Dean just shrugged.

“You tried, Sam,” Bobby said in a gentler tone. “But it doesn’t work. It ain’t good for neither you nor for Dean.”

This time, when Sam looked at him, he looked desperate. _Like someone whose hopes just got shattered,_ Bobby thought.

“Sam,” he addressed the little boy. “You’re wasting the time you could spend playing with Dean. Reading is a one person activity. While you’re engrossed in a book, your brother is getting bored to death. Do you understand?”

Sam’s eyes were wide and round. He stared at Dean quizzically, looking for confirmation of Bobby’s words in his brother’s face.

“I _am_ bored,” Dean said simply. Sam kept staring, but it seemed the words were finally getting to him.

“So why the hell didn’t you go explore the salvage yard alone? I could see you were dying to do so,” Bobby asked, ignoring Sam staring at his brother.

Dean shrugged, this time it was his turn to cast his look down. “Dad said, ‘watch out for Sammy’.”

Bobby wanted to slap his forehead and then salt John’s ass. “And you did,” he said with a sigh. “Fine. Tomorrow. You two. Out. Whole day. No excuses.”

Dean nodded, hopping off the couch and walking out of the room with Sam at his heels.

“Dean?” Sam addressed him as they were climbing the stairs to the upper floor.

“Hm?”

“What is Einstein?”

“Not what. It’s who. He was a genius,” Dean said, entering their room.

“Am I a genius?” Sam gave his brother a serious look.

Dean was thinking about some smartass comment, but when he saw Sam’s open expression, wanting an honest answer, he just shrugged and said, “You’re trying to be one.” He crawled into bed, not looking at Sam again. He could hear the soft rustle of sheets as the younger boy settled beside him.

“What are we going to do tomorrow?”

“We’re going to play.” Dean rolled on his side, grinning at Sam. There was some sort of satisfaction in it for all the boredom Sam had exposed him to.

“What will we play?”

“Anything.” Dean’s grin widened. “We can explore the salvage yard some more…”

“Will there be more mice?” Sam asked, and excitement flashed in his eyes.

“You’re so weird sometimes…”

Sam shifted closer. Dean understood and delivered a brief kiss on Sam’s forehead.

“Good night, midget,” he said with a grin.

“Jerk.” Even though it was supposed to be an obvious insult, Dean could hear a great load of warm emotion in it.

He grinned. “Bitch.”

Sam stuck his tongue at him, making Dean laugh, and grinned himself. He closed his eyes, shifting a little bit closer, and sighed into Dean’s pillow contentedly. Dean smiled and went to sleep as well. The next day was supposed to be a big day, filled with games.

After they barely ate their breakfast, Bobby pushed them out and shut the door ostentatiously behind them.

Dean grinned as he could see Sam’s sour face.

“Catch me if you can!” he shouted and ran among the wrecks of cars.

Sam yelped, surprised with the abruptness of Dean’s action, and ran after his brother.

The day was great. They played all sorts of games: they were soldiers (a soldier and his war dog), angels and demons (a demon and his hellhound – Dean heard Mom and Dad mentioning the supernatural stuff once, and even though he didn’t understand, it was interesting), cowboys and Indians (a cowboy chasing a jackal), Batman and Robin (a new version where Robin was an Irish Wolfhound wearing a mask), Indiana Jones (and his dog Indy), Dr. Frankenstein and his monster (= Frankenweenie). Dean was used to Sam’s usual choice of characters, but he still came to the decision to ask their parents to buy Sam a dog. The kid was obsessed with them.

They were let into the house only when they needed to use the bathroom or were thirsty, but Bobby made sure they didn’t come in both at a time. There were sandwiches for lunch which they ate in Bobby’s workshop while Bobby was fixing some car. They were allowed to come inside only in the evening when dinner was served.

“Your parents called,” Bobby said as he sat down at the table with the boys. “They’ll come a week later than they planned.”

Sam no more than lifted his gaze from the pasta he was stuffing himself with while Dean asked, “Why?”

“There are things they need to do. They send their love.”

Dean huffed, but didn’t ask more. He ate his pasta obediently and then helped his brother to take a bath.

Changed in PJs, they sneaked into the living room. Sam made a beeline for books, but as he grabbed one with a triumphant grin, Bobby was there, taking the book out of Sam’s little hands and, instead, gave him the book of fairytales he had found among the old stuff left by his dead wife. Sam wanted to scowl, but with the new book in his hands, there was no time for such stupidities.

“Bookworm,” Dean scoffed as Sam settled on the couch next to him, the book open in his lap. “Sammy.” Sam ignored him, pretending he was reading. “Let’s play scrabble.” That took Sam’s attention. “I’ll even let you win this time,” Dean added with a grin.

Sam closed the book. “Okay,” he said as if he was just doing his brother a favor.

A few minutes later Bobby could watch them arguing over the existence of some word (that Dean had obviously made up and was now trying to convince his little brother was a real word).

Bobby liked having them around. With them, the house was livelier than it had ever been since Karen’s death. It was nice to take care of someone, to watch, to listen, to talk to… Those boys were a gift he could never give Karen while she was alive. If she had still been there, she would have enjoyed the kids being in the house, she would have coddled them, played with them, baked pie and cupcakes for them and cooked whatever they would have wanted to eat. She would have known how to manage Sam, how to show him the right direction, because Bobby didn’t know except trying to persuade him to engage himself in mutual activities with Dean so that their bond had a chance to develop. Because Dean, indeed, was a Warrior. Just like his father. And Sam was his Protector. The first Protector Bobby heard of that was born in a very long time – that was one of the reasons why little Sam Winchester was special. And vulnerable. Bobby wasn’t sure how other Warriors who had the bad luck to not meet their Protectors would react to the existence of this kid.

Bobby didn’t know what happened to the Protectors and he hadn’t even cared until the Winchesters contacted him about this matter. He had lost his Protector, his wife, and he hadn’t wanted to tear open the old wounds, but Sam made him remember the times when it was different. When the world made sense and everything was just fine. Bobby wanted the boys to have that as long as possible. He didn’t want them to go through the same misery he had. If he could, he wanted to protect them from that…

Losing a Protector meant losing a part of one’s self. If Bobby wanted to compare that feeling to something, it felt like losing his right hand (handling things suddenly became so much more difficult, much more complicated), his one lung (he couldn’t count nights when he woke up in the middle of night because he couldn’t breathe), and his heart consisted of only one ventricle and atrium (that would explain the lingering pain). Maybe his heart wouldn’t have been so bad if he and Karen hadn’t broken the taboo and hadn’t fallen in love with each other. Not that there was any code for Warriors-Protectors relationships and sure as hell no one was ever going to sue such a couple, but there was an unwritten rule based on one simple fact – Protectors, though born in human bodies to human mothers, could hardly be considered to be human beings. Before they were born, the animal spirits adjusted the human embryos to meet their needs and suit their animal nature in their new life of Protectors.

Therefore Bobby was glad that Dean and Sam were spared such torture, not because they were boys, but because they were blood relatives. As long as Bobby remembered, there was never a blood relation between a Warrior and a Protector. This was something new to him _. Maybe Mother Nature herself wants to protect her children from more damage than necessary…_

Bobby let them play until he noticed Sam yawning too often. He sent them to bed, neither of the boys protesting. When he came to check on them a half-hour later, he found them sound asleep, Sam on top of Dean, breathing softly into his brother’s pajama top, while Dean didn’t seem to be even aware of the live weight pressing him to the mattress. It reminded Bobby of Karen, his wild cat, who had loved snuggling and used to purr softly until she lulled him to sleep, her weight nice and delicious against his body; that pressure on his chest could never leave him breathless. When he couldn’t breathe, she had breathed for him. When he couldn’t hear, she had been his ears. When he couldn’t see, she had looked instead of him.

In the next couple of days Sam finally understood that playing with Dean and getting dirty from head to toe is a much better way to spend time and he didn’t make a beeline for books whenever Bobby didn’t look anymore. Not that he was that much trouble, but Bobby liked having the boys outside and not being worried they could try to explore the house and find something that wasn’t meant for their eyes and definitely not for their hands. He usually didn’t see them the whole day long unless it was time to eat and in the evening when he managed to get them inside, fed them, sent to bath and allowed them to watch TV or do whatever they wanted before they went to bed. Many times Sam fell asleep with his head on his brother’s shoulder if they were watching TV or curled up on the floor or on the couch with a book in his small hands. When it happened, Dean simply gathered Sammy in his arms and carried him upstairs into their room. He never asked Bobby for help and Bobby never offered it. He had a feeling that Dean was quite happy to do it himself. As weird as it was, Sam never woke up. Otherwise the kid had as sharp senses as a dog that had undoubtedly possessed him before Sam had been born.

One day, when the boys were out playing and Bobby was looking for a piece of information for a buddy hunter in his giant library, the phone rang. He put the glass of whiskey from which he was drinking on the desk and picked up.

“What?” he asked grumpily.

“Bobby Singer, always a ray of sunshine,” said a woman’s voice on the other side of the line mockingly.

Bobby stiffened in surprise. He hadn’t heard that voice for some time and the last time he had, it sent him straight to hell.

“Pamela…” he said warily. “I suppose there’s something important you want to tell me. You wouldn’t bother to call me otherwise.”

“I had interesting visitors today. A couple of hunters: he a Warrior missing a Protector, she a Fighter willing to die for him. Deadly combination. They said you’d sent them.”

“Maybe I did mention you in one of our conversations…”

“Right…” There was a pause for a moment, and then, “So a kid, huh?”

“Yeah,” Bobby said hesitantly. “Blood brothers. Have you ever heard about it?”

“No, never.” Bobby could hear a long intake of breath. “It means something.”

“Well, and what does it mean, smartass?”

“That’s what I still need to figure out,” Pamela said with ice cold calmness. “Bobby?”

“Yeah?”

“They’re in danger. The kids. Don’t let them out of your sight. And I don’t mean the jealousy of the Warriors who’ve never met their Protectors. There’s something out there stealing the power. Something evil.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“No. And I’m not sure I even want to.”

Bobby could understand that. Since her Warrior’s death, Pamela didn’t want to have anything to do with Warriors and Protectors. As a former Protector, she was still grieving and Bobby knew she would be until she would pass away after her Jesse. He had promised her forever right before he got himself killed. Pam’s Protector powers were locked ever since; as Warriorless as she was she didn’t need them, and she couldn’t even shift anymore. That was what the loss a Warrior caused to a Protector – they became human.

Bobby had gotten to know Pamela shortly after she lost her reason to live. He had stopped her from doing something she would forever regret (if she had done a piss poor job and survived). He had told her about Karen. Pamela had listened to him, but only to the point where he had tried to explain how much he missed his wife. She had gotten furious, yelling at Bobby he couldn’t understand what she had been going through and practically throwing him out from the house. Nevertheless, she had never hung up a phone on him or turned him down whenever he had needed her help, but Bobby had been wise enough to avoid the painful topic and careful enough to never involve her in anything concerning Warriors and Protectors. Until now…

“What about the kid?”

“Well…” she drawled, “I must admit I’m curious. I’d love to see him.”

“What did his parents say?”

Her laughter surprised him, but also delighted. “They sought me out to ask for help, didn’t they?”

“Good point.”

When she spoke again, her voice was dead serious. “You do realize there’s much more to this than we can anticipate so far, don’t you?”

“I kinda figured.”

“Be careful, Bobby. Neither your senses nor your reflexes are as sharp as they were when you were still a Warrior.”

That was the first time she acknowledged his sad history. It only deepened Bobby’s feeling that this was more serious than he thought.

“Thanks for the warning, Pam. I have to go now,” he said and disconnected the call, already looking out from the window and giving the salvage yard in front of him a searching look, trying to catch any sign of the boys. There was nothing. He went out and walked among the car wrecks, calling the boys.

They appeared in the end, dirty from mud, dust and car oil as usual, giving Bobby uncomprehending looks as he directed them back into the house.

“What’s up, Uncle Bobby?” Dean asked, taking Sam’s hand, a gesture so natural, so casual that Bobby would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking for more in the way Sam and Dean behaved toward each other for a few weeks already. Sam looked upset for some reason, big eyes fixed on Bobby, but he visibly relaxed a little bit as Dean’s hand clutched his. 

Bobby looked at the boys, tenderness filling his heart. He wanted to protect their innocence, their childhood, but protecting their lives was his number one priority. Everything else came after.

“It’s nothing important, son,” he said with a forced smile. “It’d be just better if you two play close to the house.”

“Why?” Dean asked, the child’s innocence that Bobby expected hardly present in his voice. Dean wasn’t an idiot to be fooled so easily. The thought brought smile on Bobby’s lips.

“As I said, nothing important. I only want you to play where I can see you.”

Dean frowned. “You didn’t so far…”

“I do now, okay?” Bobby said strictly. “You’ll stay close to the house unless I’m with you. End of discussion.”

He heard Dean’s discontent huff, but ignored it.

Dean sulked for the rest of the day, which Bobby kept ignoring, and Sam read a book. The dinner was quiet and there was something in the air that made Bobby restless, which sure as hell wasn’t caused by the older boy’s sulking mood, but Bobby was unable to figure out what it was. It made his skin crawl.

He sent the boys upstairs to take baths and prepare for the night. He had just started washing the dishes when his ears caught the purring sound of an engine coming from outside that was cut off suddenly. They had a visitor…

The kids were safely upstairs, so Bobby could easily pull a gun from the hiding place in a cupboard where he had it stashed behind packages of flour.

A silent knock on the door sounded. Whoever it was, they didn’t want their appearance to be a secret. Bobby tucked the gun behind the waistband of his jeans on the back and opened the door slowly, peering out. John Winchester was standing there, and he was a mess…

“John! What the hell happened to you? Where’s Mary?”

John entered the house, heading right into the kitchen. He knew where Bobby had his supplies of booze and went right for it, not bothering to pour whiskey into a glass, but drank right from the bottle.

Bobby was quiet the whole time, watching the wreck of the man in front of him while a dark suspicion was slowly growing within him.

“She’s…” John started, but his voice broke and he took another proper swig from the bottle. His glassy eyes, rimmed with blood and tears, were looking somewhere into the distance. “She’s dead,” he breathed out and collapsed heavily in a chair.

Chill ran up Bobby’s spine and he sank into a chair himself. He thought of Mary’s warm smile, her gentle nature, her hate for fighting and hunting but doing so because that was what her husband needed. He remembered her love for her sons and her worry.

“What happened?” he asked quietly, thinking of the two boys upstairs who had lost their mother and didn’t know about it yet. Someone had to tell them. But who? John should, but John didn’t look in the right shape to deal with his kids right now.

“We found out what happened to Protectors. We found a Warrior whose Protector was just a pile of craziness and violence. His essence was gone. Taken by a demon.”

“Balls…” Bobby cursed under his breath just out of habit. He had to admit this was a piece of valuable information. It still didn’t explain what happened to Mary.

“We were followed, right from their shelter...” John’s voice trailed off.

“Demons?” Bobby asked just to give his friend some time to pull himself together.

John nodded. “We caught some, tortured and found the yellow-eyed son a bitch that’s been stealing the essence of animal spirits. We found him and confronted him…” An odd, cold flame shone in John’s eyes, and Bobby wasn’t sure if John even realized he wasn’t out there, confronting any demon whatsoever, anymore. When he spoke again, his voice was firm and cold, strange.

“He said he had the essence of my Protector. Maybe he was bluffing, maybe he wasn’t, I don’t know. But I know what he did to all those Protectors, tortured them, broke them, stole their very existence. Left just empty shells, pain and despair…” John fell silent to drink from the whiskey before he continued. “He lured me into that warehouse. He made me believe I could take him down…” John looked at Bobby and there was so much pain and regret… Bobby could guess easily what happened next

“Demons lie,” he said quietly.

John’s face puckered with anger. The explosion was inevitable. “I was a fucking idiot!” he yelled. “I waltzed right into his trap and Mary… Mary saved my ass and died herself. Burned like a match in that fucking warehouse!” The fire in his eyes faded, there was just cold determination that made Bobby shiver. “He killed her. The son of a bitch killed my wife. He’ll pay for that. I’LL KILL HIM!!!”

“Quieter!” Bobby hissed. “The boys are upstairs.”

“Dad?” sounded shyly. Both Bobby and John winced, turning to the door.

The boys were standing there in the doorway, showered and in their pajamas, their eyes big and round, staring at John. Sam was clutching the hem of Dean’s pajamas, half-hidden behind his brother, small and scared, while Dean was trying to look brave.

“Where’s Mom?” Dean asked, a slight shiver running through his body. Sam gripped the pajamas tighter.

John’s expression hardened, the cruel flame flashing in them again. “She’s not coming back. Ever,” he said darkly – not like a father to his son, but like an officer to his subordinate.

Dean’s big green eyes widened even more. He made a step back, knocking into his brother. Sam gave a quiet “uf”, trying to get out of Dean’s way as fast as possible, the hem of the pajamas slid out of his hands. Dean turned around abruptly and ran away from the kitchen doorway. Sam stayed standing there, his eyes locked with John’s, and Bobby was sure it was reproach in them. John held the glare, his expression grim, and there was also something more Bobby couldn’t identify, but he didn’t like it at all.

Sam backed into the corridor and ran after his brother.

When he stepped into the room, Dean was already lying in bed, sobbing quietly into the pillow. The soft sound, almost inaudible, stopped as Sam’s bare feet padded toward the bed. He stopped by the bed, watching his brother’s frame huddled under the covers, slight, involuntary shivers as Dean was trying not to cry when Sam was there.

Sam knew he should be broken – just like Dean was. He knew he should be crying his lungs out until he would have lost his voice and wouldn’t have been able to shed any more tears, but he wasn’t able to. The only one for whom Sam felt like crying was Dean. Dean’s sorrow totally overshadowed everything else and didn’t allow Sam to grieve over the loss of their mother. Their mom wasn’t as important as Dean was. And if Sam could make at least a tiny bit of that pain disappear… If he only could bring Dean some comfort…

He crawled into bed beside his brother, who lay on his side with his back turned to Sam. Sam’s sharp ears could catch silent, involuntary sobs that Dean was trying hard to stifle. He pressed his chest to Dean’s back and snaked his arm around Dean’s waist. Dean stiffened for a moment, but when Sam delivered a small kiss on his neck, Dean suddenly shuddered with suppressed emotion and sobbed into the pillow.

Sam felt uncomfortable pressure in his chest, like there was a big knot tightening with each intake of breath. His lungs were struggling with the lack of air and his eyes were burning. Tears started rolling down his face and he gave a loud sob. The pressure turned to an ache, still growing and suffocating him, and when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, it only grew. It terrified Sam, and he pressed closer to his brother, the only person in the world that mattered and for whom Sam was crying now.

Surprisingly, each of Sam’s quite sobs, each tremble of his little body holding onto Dean like he would have died if he had let go just for a moment, made Dean feel a little bit better. The ache wasn’t so bad – yes, it was still there, but he could breathe freely finally – and there was a certain comfort in Sam’s touch. Dean took his brother’s hand wound around his waist and held it firmly.

Sam’s quiet sobs echoed into the silence of the night, bringing comfort into Dean’s troubled soul and lulling him to sleep.

The new ache started blooming in his chest in the morning, but then Sammy was there, looking like a kid zombie, and he folded his arms around Dean, burying his face in his brother’s chest, and everything was a little bit better again. Dean even managed to smile as he hugged his brother back. “It’ll be okay, Sammy,” he said soothingly as he rubbed Sam’s back up and down. Sam sighed heavily, leaving wet splotches on Dean’s T-shirt, but that was okay. Dean could deal with it.

They went downstairs, meeting Bobby in the kitchen. He stared at them for a moment, surprised, before his gaze became more scrutinizing. He sized them both up and only then called them to the table. Dean noticed Sam got twice as big a portion as usual, but the little brother complained he wasn’t hungry and refused to touch his food. He only sipped from his tea a little and kept glaring at bread with ham and cheese in front of him.

“I’m not discussing this with you, Sam. Eat,” Bobby said strictly.

“Not hungry,” Sam protested, reaching for Dean instead of his breakfast.

Bobby frowned and his hand curled around the slim wrist, not allowing the contact. “I know what you did,” he said, his voice low and menacing. Sam’s eyes went wide just like every time when something surprised him. “You need to gain your strength back, so eat before I force-feed you.” He let go of Sam’s hand, and Sam, looking just as confused as Dean felt, started eating slowly with Bobby watching him carefully.

Sam didn’t eat everything that was on his plate, but Dean had to admit he looked much better when he ate than before, and Bobby looked satisfied with him as well. Nor was the atmosphere as tense, and Dean had just started wondering where Dad was when John entered the kitchen, looking even worse than last night. Dean stiffened, gazing at their father’s haunted face, seeing the grief, pain and helplessness, and the knot in his chest that was pleasantly loose this morning tightened abruptly, leaving Dean gasping for air and almost doubling over with the pain it caused.

Mom was gone. The infinity of it was written all over John’s face.

“You okay?” Bobby’s calm voice sounded into the dead silence.

“My head hurts,” John growled, squinting at Bobby from half-closed eyelids as he was trying to protect his eyes from the daylight penetrating inside through the window.

“Sit down, I’ll bring you water,” Bobby said and turned to the kitchen counter to take a clean glass and pour some water into it. Meanwhile John joined his sons at the table, but he avoided looking at them.

Dean cast his eyes to his plate, but he was unable to eat any more. If he had glanced at his brother, he could have seen the angry glare Sam was flashing their father. But because he didn’t dare look anywhere but his unfinished breakfast, he didn’t notice anything.

Someone else did.

“You boys finished?” Bobby asked as he stood the glass of water in front of John.

“Yes,” they said in unison, Dean mumbled while Sam sounded loud and clear.

“Good. Then you can go. Stay close to the house, okay?”

“Fine,” Dean muttered again as he stood up, glancing at their father as he walked out from the kitchen. John didn’t move, he didn’t acknowledge they were in the kitchen. Dean looked down quickly and hurried out as fast as he could without looking suspicious.

Sam followed his brother, the look even angrier, teeth slightly bared.

“Sam,” Bobby’s voice distracted him for a moment. “You can take a book from the living room if you want to.”

Sam blinked with surprise, completely forgetting about John. Then he frowned again, this time at Bobby. “I don’t,” he said, almost growled. Did no one in this house understand that Dean was suffering? That he needed comfort because the pain was too much for one person to carry? Didn’t Dad understand that his sorrow was hurting Dean? Was Bobby so stupid that he thought Sam would prefer some book to his brother?

Sam was furious at both adult men when he ran out from the house. It wasn’t so hard for him to find Dean. Something in his subconscious led him unmistakably into Bobby’s garage. Dean was sitting there at the table on which were scattered various types of car components, his head lowered, his shoulders hunched. Sam went in and sat down next to his brother, his knee touching Dean’s gently, and he could feel the immediate flow of sadness filling him little by little.

Dean sighed and looked at Sam, eyes wet, but there was no trace of tears on his face. Sam wanted to smile, he really did, but instead his mouth curved in the opposite direction and he wasn’t as brave as Dean to hold the tears. A loud sob echoed into the quiet summer day. Dean put a hand around Sam’s shoulders and pulled him closer.

“It’ll be okay, Sammy, I promise,” he whispered as Sam hid his face in Dean’s shirt in helpless surrender.

Meanwhile in the kitchen Bobby watched John carefully.

“You know, you really should tell me the whole story now when the kids are out of the earshot,” he said in a mild tone.

“Fuck it,” John cursed, putting his aching head in his hands. “A demon steals the essence of Protectors. We tracked him down and trapped him. We wanted to send him right back to Hell, but the son of a bitch was too powerful. He tricked us and before we realized what was happening three of his demons fed with the essences attacked us.”

“He feeds demons the essences?”

“Seems so…”

“Balls…”

“He takes them, stains them with blood and feeds his demons with them. Builds an army. That’s what he said…” John hesitated for a moment before he said quietly, “He said he did that to my Protector, too…” His voice broke.

Bobby stared. “So you’re telling me he kidnapped your Protector before…?”

“Yeah. Makes sense after all.”

“Damn…”

There was a long silence. Both men were deep in thought.

“The boys…” Bobby spoke finally.

John’s face darkened. “I’ll rather kill Sam myself than let the son of a bitch have his essence and twist it beyond imagination.”

Bobby frowned. “Pull yourself together, friggin’ idjit. No one’s killing anyone. I’ll call Pam, she’s in danger, too.”

John watched Bobby dial a number and then heard him speaking to the ex-Protector on the other side of the line. The call was short, accompanied with agitated commands to Pamela to pack her crap and bring her ass to the salvage yard. Meanwhile he was working on a plan. The Yellow-Eyed deserved to be swept from the Earth’s surface, to be destroyed, not just sent back to Hell. John was determined to find him and end his existence whatever it took.

“Sam started using his powers,” Bobby’s voice interrupted his musing. “He took most of Dean’s grief. It wore him out pretty much.”

“Crap…” Sam acting like a Protector was like a neon sign ‘Come and get me’. He was like a time bomb. “This has to stop.”

“He only needs guiding and he’ll be all right,” Bobby said, obviously not having understood John’s concern. “Pamela will help with that.”

“Fuck Pamela and her guiding. Sammy must stop if he wants to survive. I swear if something happens to Dean…”

“That’s why he needs guiding!” Bobby shouted, already irritated. “You can’t want him to forget who he is. It’s not possible. He needs to learn to be subtle and still useful.”

“The most useful he can be is when he stops the Protector crap and learns to be human!” John shouted back.

Bobby looked at John coldly. “We’ll talk when you calm down.” With that he left the kitchen, totally pissed. He needed to calm down himself. He could check on the boys at least.

They weren’t in front of the house – not that he really expected them there to be, but it made him even more nervous, and he gave a long sigh of relief when he found them in the garage. Dean was sitting at the table, his hand resting on Sam’s shoulder. The younger brother was lying on the bench with his head on Dean’s knee.

Dean lifted his head when he heard Bobby’s footsteps. “Sammy fell asleep,” he said quietly.

“We should take him to bed,” Bobby responded gently and bent for the kid, but Dean stopped him.

“I’ll carry him,” he announced and pulled Sam into a sitting position. Then he scooped him into his arms and lifted from the bench. The younger boy didn’t even sigh from his sleep, his head was resting on Dean’s shoulder and he looked miserable.

Dean carried him out from the garage carefully. Bobby followed them, ready to help Dean if there was a need.

Dean managed to bring Sam into the house, but carrying him upstairs seemed too much for him, so Bobby freed him from his task and took Sam into his arms. In their room, he put the boy gently on the soft mattress. Dean climbed on the bed next to Sam.

“Are you okay?” Bobby asked.

Dean nodded silently and lay down.

“Good. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

“’Kay…”

Bobby hesitated in the doorway, looking over his shoulder at the boys. He met Dean’s eyes, cautious and distant, and he knew that was just not the right time for any more words. He turned around and left the room, closing the door behind himself quietly.

Dean settled on the sheets, facing his little brother. Sam looked exhausted and vulnerable in his sleep, and Dean longed for nothing else but to see a smile blooming on those lips again, even though he didn’t feel like smiling any time soon himself. But Sammy… Dean didn’t want to see his brother so broken, so miserable… Still, there was a certain comfort in Sammy’s tears, some twisted relief that allowed Dean to breathe more freely. He felt ashamed of that, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave Sam’s side when Sam was like this.

Dean shifted a little bit closer, hand reaching for Sam’s, fingers entwining together.

“Everything will be fine, Sammy. You’ll see…” he whispered and took a deep breath. He didn’t know how yet, but he would keep his promise.

Sam breathed in, turning his body toward Dean, his nose close to their joined hands. Dean smiled, allowing himself to feel light and untroubled for this short precious moment.


	2. Life in a Motel Room

 

The next few days it was pointless to talk to John. He was unfocused, keeping his distance from Bobby and from the boys, usually spending time drinking or on the phone. Something was up and Bobby didn’t dare to ask, afraid he would find out something he wouldn’t like.

Dean and Sam clung to each other more than Bobby had ever seen them, Dean looking strangely calm and alert while Sam was almost constantly tired, ready to fall asleep anywhere and everywhere. They weren’t interested in games anymore, nothing could catch their attention for more than five minutes. They usually retired somewhere out of John’s sight, because when they didn’t, John gave them that weird, knowing look, a glare in fact that always made Dean shudder and Sam scowl, and kept silent.

And finally the day came when things started to move. John took Dean to the yard and put a gun into his hands. Sam, who followed them and whose eyes were no wider than two thin slits lately, was staring at the duo, wide-eyed and kind of scared. If Dad wanted Dean to shoot from a real gun loaded with real bullets, then there must have been something more fucked up than Mom’s death, which also confirmed Bobby’s disapproving glare. But he said nothing. Not in front of Sam or Dean.

Dean did well. He didn’t hit the exact point, but at least he did hit the target drawn on the side of a wreck of a van. For the first time since Mom had died, Sam could see a hint of a smile on Dad’s face. He wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. Yet, Dean looked pleased with himself and that was a big shift in what he was going through lately. So Sam was proud of him, even offering a hesitant smile.

And then it was Sam’s turn to shoot. It scared the shit out of him. The gun was heavy and too big to fit into his hands, the gunshot was too loud and the power of the backlash was stranger than he thought. The bullets flew only God knew where and Dad’s tightly pursed lips told Sam he wasn’t pleased at all.

“You’ll learn,” John said dryly, sticking the gun behind the waistband of his jeans.

“You all right, Sammy?” Dean asked when John disappeared in the house.

Sam shrugged. “I don’t like shooting. I suck at it.”

“You just need practice.”

Sam wasn’t sure if he wanted to practice shooting. It was hurting his sensitive ears and he didn’t feel comfortable with a loaded gun in his hands. He didn’t feel safe.

Obviously, Bobby thought something along the lines of Sam’s thoughts, because they could hear his displeased voice coming from the house through the open kitchen window.

“I know why you’re doing that, but do you really think giving a gun to the kids is a good idea?”

“Dean’s old enough.”

“But Sam is not.”

“The sooner he learns the better for him.”

“You can’t mean it. He should read fairy tales and play with Superman action figure. They both should.”

John scoffed. “Like you’ve ever seen them doing that… They’ll be all right.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Bobby growled, and there was silence for a while.

“Can I leave them with you for a few more days?” John asked in the end, his voice a little less gruff then a while ago.

“Whatever you want. I don’t mind having them here.”

They said nothing more.

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

“Dean,” Sam spoke quietly, almost whined.

“I know,” Dean said maybe a little more curtly than he intended. The thing was he didn’t know. He didn’t understand. There was panic in Sam’s voice, in his eyes, and the same panic was slowly taking over Dean, and he didn’t like it at all. He didn’t want to feel so frightened and helpless, not in front of Sam if he could help it. Admitting that this whole situation, Mom’s death, Dad drinking and teaching them to shoot (no matter how awesome it was), was getting to him. It would have just proved how weak he was, still a child…

He didn’t want to be a child anymore. He wanted to grow up and be brave and strong, so that he could protect his little brother, who always looked up to him with admiration and lately with so much hope… 

Dean held his breath. It was there – the courage, the determination – right in front of him, in Sam’s eyes too, deep for a kid.

“Let’s go inside,” he said, stretching out his hand toward his brother, who touched it gratefully, and suddenly things started looking less dark, less scary – just like they tended to appear recently every time Sam was there seeking comfort in Dean’s arms (or maybe trying to offer some himself, and if that was the case, it was working).

He didn’t understand it yet, not utterly, but there was something about Sam. Sam was something. Something very important that Dean would never let go. That was the promise he made to himself as he led Sam into the house and upstairs into their room to find something they could do together and not get into Dad’s or Bobby’s way.

The evening was drawing nearer and the sun was shining right into the room when they could hear the rumbling of the Impala. Dad was leaving without saying his goodbye to them. Sam didn’t seem to be much troubled by that, but Dean was.

They ran down into the kitchen where they found Bobby sipping a golden liquid from a glass.

“Dad?” Dean asked suspiciously.

“Needed to take care of some things. Said he’d come to collect you boys when he’s done. Seems you’re stuck here with me for a couple more days.” Bobby looked pissed at something (or someone), but he was holding back. “Wanna watch some TV?”

Dean looked at Sam, who shrugged mutely. “Why not?” he said when he understood that waiting for any coherent answer from Sam was pointless. They had nothing better to do, anyway. For some reason, exploring the salvage yard was no longer allowed (not that Dean felt like doing it anymore).

He didn’t even know what they were watching. Sam fell asleep sometime during the first hour of some crazy TV show with his head resting on Dean’s thigh. Dean didn’t dare to move so that he didn’t wake him up. Sleeping was always better than worrying what was to come, what their Dad was planning and why he was giving them such strange looks ever since Mom didn’t return from their latest hunt… or why Sammy slept so much recently. Dean was afraid that his brother could be sick, but when he checked, Sam didn’t have a fever, he was only tired. Bobby didn’t seem bothered by that fact as he would have been if Sam had caught flu or something, he only made sure Sam ate properly.

Days went slowly by, silent and boring. Sam was slowly getting better, sleeping less and talking more… at least until the time Dad turned up again to take his sons with him. Even years later Dean could still recall Bobby’s worried face which he could see from the rear window of the Impala as John was driving away from the salvage yard. 

John drove the whole day, making only short breaks to eat and use a bathroom, and Dean and Sam understood they were not going home. When Dean asked about it, he got a curt answer, “I sold the house.” John didn’t say more and Dean and Sam were afraid to ask.

Confusion and fear welled up in Dean, and Sam’s panicked eyes didn’t help much as well. At least he thought… but there was Sam gripping his hand, obviously freaking, and Dean couldn’t afford the luxury of doing the same. He stayed calm, confused but not afraid anymore – Sam was doing a great job for both of them.

That was the beginning of their lives in motel rooms and old shacks, but they had no idea about it yet. They still hoped that Dad would stop the madness and take them somewhere nice and homey where they would make new friends (and enemies whose asses they could kick from time to time) and live a carefree apple pie life. 

The first night was the worst of all. Dad took a room with two queen-sized beds, and while he occupied one of them, Sam and Dean were supposed to share the other one.

Sam had nightmares. He was wriggling all the time, waking Dean up, and whining loudly into the silence, until John lost his patience, woke Sam up and literally dragged him into his bed.

“I’ve had enough. You’ll sleep with me.”

Neither Dean and nor John, apparently, expected the fierce reaction that followed. Sam started screaming and reaching for Dean as John picked him up from the bed.

“NO! Please, please, no! Dad, please! DEAN! No! No!”

Dean was watching his brother and Dad, horrified. John dropped Sam on the other bed none too gently, holding him in place as the boy kept squirming, ready to run back to Dean.

“What the hell is wrong with you!?” John yelled, and Sam stopped screaming and trying for an escape immediately, wide eyes fixed on the man.

“Dean needs me,” came a weak, almost inaudible answer.

Dean cringed under Dad’s hard look, and so did Sam as their eyes met again.

“Go to sleep. Both of you,” John said tiredly, letting go of Sam, who curled up on the side of the bed as far away from John as he could. He was shaking, his eyes wet and locked with Dean’s.

Dean felt coldness creeping up into his heart, fear and doubts and grief. He wanted to turn away from Sam, he didn’t want his little brother to see how vulnerable and lost he suddenly felt, but the hazel eyes were the only thing that kept him from falling into icy darkness.

The night was silent, the only sound disturbing the peace was the soft rustle of sheets and nothing else anymore…

The last days of the summer holiday were filled with hard drill. Dad made them run through woods as fast as they could, and when they thought, they had enough, he proved they could do a little bit more. They trained shooting, both-handed so far so that they managed to keep their focus and balance without any problem. Dean picked up the technique pretty fast and never missed a stationary target, although there was still a long way to go for him to achieve precision. Sammy wasn’t as good. Even though he missed a target only rarely, he lacked the focus of his brother. But he was still too young and had enough time to train. On the other hand, he was a great runner and tracker, and once he was showed how, he could read nature without making a mistake. His sense of orientation was highly developed, too, and John was only glad to find out Dean wasn’t that bad in this discipline either.

They were a perfect couple, one of them eager to learn to fight and use guns and weapons while the other one keeping an eye on his brother, always trying to figure how to keep him safe and unharmed. That John appreciated as long as Sam didn’t go too… doggish. His senses were keen, and that was all right. Great hearing and the ability to catch smells and distinguish them could only help to increase their lifespan, but John absolutely didn’t tolerate the obvious exhibitions of what Sam truly was. Growling and whining were simply forbidden. If Sam wanted to express his feelings, there were words for that (which John crossed out from his vocabulary long ago). Also he tried to minimize the physical contact between the boys. Sam channeling and accepting Dean’s emotions wasn’t helping anyone. He didn’t know how to deal with them, and Dean was supposed to learn to deal with his own bundle of crap himself, anyway. The less dependent on each other they were, the better for everyone. The only form of bond John was willing to accept was the brotherly love and no Warrior-Protector crap, something he had been denied to know himself. The fact that Dean and Sam grew up together only complicated things. Warriors and Protectors were supposed to start developing their skills only after they were able to recognize each other. The boys were still too young to understand what the pull between them meant, but their skills showed up anyway.

That concerned John. He would have been happier if common people saw just another Warrior in Sammy or a mere Fighter caring too much for his brother (just like Mary cared for John), but that required Sam to be subtle about his true nature. Which, unfortunately, wasn’t so easy. So John drilled them even harder in order to teach them how to survive.

But he knew that however successful Sam would be in pushing his animal side away, he couldn’t fool another Protector at their full power or a skillful Warrior. Not talking about the threat that was still out there and leaving behind a frightful trail of mad Warriors and even madder Protectors (in case they weren’t already dead). John was scared, restless and anxious, which resulted in him being strict with the boys and unforgiving even to their minor mistakes. He was too hard on them, he knew that, but it was all for their own good.

When he wasn’t drilling them on how to survive, he was looking for any signs of the Yellowed-Eyed Demon that killed Mary and obviously knew a whole lot about the missing and killed Protectors. Once Dean asked him what he was doing and whether he needed help, but instead of explaining anything, John sent him to train shooting. The less they knew the better for them… Sammy stopped talking to John unless there was a need for a conversation. Their talks were always short and pragmatic without any trace of emotion.

School started. At first John was afraid to leave his sons out there without his supervision, but on the other hand he suddenly had a lot of time for his research. After the first two weeks he finally stopped patrolling outside the school and waiting for any sign of danger to his boys and started collecting information about demon activity in the neighborhood.

Sammy didn’t try to know everything to get into Dean’s class anymore (however he still spent way too much time, according to John’s opinion, with his nose in his textbooks). He was silent, trailing Dean wherever he could and was allowed to, but sometimes he would have been happier if he hadn’t. Mom was dead… and they didn’t try to hide it if someone asked. The word spread. Sam didn’t care, but Dean was annoyed about it at first. He stopped talking about Mom, but the harm was already done. Girls came to him to offer a nice word, a little chit-chat, a good look at their breasts to comfort the poor heart-broken boy… Older girls were like that, cheap and easy to overlook. Sam didn’t like them. He didn’t like even the girls his own age, who kept staring at him like he was some alien and then whispering their little conspiratorial theories. Sam didn’t know what was worse…

During the breaks, he looked for Dean. He made it his private game, the search for his brother in the overcrowded corridors, trying to identify the unique odor in the overwhelming mixture of smells, to catch the familiar voice among all the loud noises. Sometimes he failed, sometimes he was successful, and sometimes he just didn’t have enough time. And then there were times when Sam found Dean talking to a girl…

They used to spend lunch breaks together. That was an unwritten rule, and Sam enjoyed that time very much. It was the only time when he didn’t feel lonely. It wasn’t like people didn’t talk to him or didn’t want to be friends with him, they did, but none of them could give Sam what he longed for – the feeling of belonging somewhere. Only Dean could do that. Sam had belonged with Dean since he was born. Dean made him who he was and kept shaping Sam, giving him his identity. The happiness of meeting Dean at lunch was growing each day, and when he saw Dean’s big grin, he felt like snuggling up to him, licking his face and wagging the tail he didn’t have, like simply jumping out of his skin and barking and howling his joy out into the world.

But suddenly Dean broke their silent agreement. With his grin bigger than usual he whispered into Sam’s ear, “I’ll see you later,” and hurried after a tall, pretty, long-haired blonde girl from a year above Dean. They sat alone at a table, Dean was talking some nonsense and she was giggling and coiling a strand of her hair around her finger. They didn’t even finish their lunch and disappeared from the school cantina, obviously spending the rest of the break together somewhere away from the curious eyes of everyone (Sam’s). Even if Sam wanted to pretend he was okay, he couldn’t just ignore the wave of disappointment rising within him. He left the cantina as fast as he could himself.

He spent the rest of break alone, sitting under a tree in the school yard and moping. There were still a few minutes left when Dean joined him, grinning from ear to ear.

“Sorry for lunch,” Dean said, but he didn’t look sorry at all.

Sam lowered his head. He didn’t know what to say. That he didn’t like the girl? Yeah, probably. She wasn’t good enough for Dean.

Dean stopped grinning, watching Sam’s face carefully. “Are you mad?”

“No,” Sam lied, unable to look Dean in the eye.

“Sammy, I’m with you every day. And we’ll be together after school.”

That was all true. But it couldn’t change how Sam felt.

“You smell like her,” he said, crinkling his nose.

Dean stared. “What?”

“You smell like the girl. Don’t come near me, it makes me want to puke,” Sam said and stood up.

“Don’t be an idiot, Sammy,” Dean said, his voice calm, but Sam could hear it won’t stay that way for too long. He didn’t want to argue, so he just shrugged and walked slowly toward the school building, Dean following.

“What were you doing?” he asked, immediately regretting his curious question. He didn’t want to know.

Dean grinned again. Sam was already sick of that satisfied grin.

“We kissed.”

Sam stopped and looked at his brother, horrified. “Huh? Yuck!” He made a disgusted face. “Now I really want to puke,” he added and started walking again.

“You’re such a little bitch, Sam,” Dean growled and left Sam’s side.

They didn’t see each other until their classes were over. They walked back to the motel they were staying in without saying a word, the tension between them obvious. Sam couldn’t smell the girl on Dean anymore, but he couldn’t forget how happy and satisfied Dean had been when he told Sam about his experience.

“What was it like?” he broke the silence in the end.

“What?”

“Kissing her.”

“Weird.”

Sam didn’t understand, but he nodded anyway. The truth was Dean didn’t understand it himself. He liked the kiss, it was his first one, but there was something weird, weirdly weird and he didn’t know whether in the good or bad way. Maybe first kisses were always like that…

He didn’t think about it much. It had just been a kiss. He hadn’t promised the girl anything. She hadn’t even expected that. They had both just been looking for fun. The disapproval written all over Sam’s face, even though the little bitch kept his mouth shut, didn’t mean anything, all right? Like hell Sam had any right to judge Dean’s actions!

He glanced at his brother, but Sam wasn’t looking at him, so obviously it was the end of the discussion. Fine, it was better like that anyway. Sam couldn’t understand the matters of big guys, he was still too little for that.

By the time they got back to their motel room, Dean was pissed at Sammy for many crazy reasons: he was pissed that Sam kept silent, that he wasn’t his bitchy self like he usually was when he didn’t like something, that he acted like what Dean had done didn’t matter at all. Like it suddenly wasn’t important. Like he _forgave_ Dean. Like there _was_ something to forgive! What the hell was Sam _thinking_? Who _gave_ him the right to _think anything at all_?

For once, Dean was grateful that Dad was home and made them train in shooting, which Dean liked and he totally forgot about the girl, the kiss… about his anger at Sammy. He remembered only when he collapsed into his bed late in the evening, exhausted after the training. Sam was already asleep on the other bed by the time Dean came out from the bathroom. Dad was outside, Dean could hear the well-known screeching sound of the doors and trunk of the Impala. He gathered his last pieces of strength to crawl out from the bed and cross the three feet between the beds. He crouched next to Dad and Sammy’s bed and watched the sleeping face of his little brother. Sam’s expression was peaceful and innocent – just like always, it was nothing new. But there was something lacking and Dean couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

“For your information, I’m still pissed at you,” he whispered and smiled. He didn’t really want Sammy to know, it was just his private joke, something he said but didn’t mean. Gently, he removed the strands of Sam’s untidy hair from his forehead and placed a soft kiss on the smooth skin.

“G’night, Sammy,” he said and hurried back into his bed, the sound coming from the outside warned him that Dad had shut the door of the car and was now coming inside.

John knew about the goodnight kiss. It was their ritual, something the boys adopted when Sammy was just a baby and it kind of stayed with them. John didn’t want to take that away from them, the thing Mary would approve of, he was sure, but he also never encouraged them to stick with the old habit. It was theirs, they had to decide when the time to stop was, and John was sure the time would come sooner or later. They were growing up after all…

Maybe that was the reason why Dean didn’t really like doing it in front of Dad. He didn’t feel guilty, not at all… but the strange looks he and Sammy were getting whenever they came too close to each other and touched, a hand lingering on a shoulder, arm or thigh a little longer discouraged Dean to kiss Sammy when Dad was around and watching.

Sammy mewled like a puppy and smiled, a hand reaching out toward Dean, fingers splayed. Dean was about to stretch out his own hand, when the door finally opened and Dad walked in. Dean froze and watched Sam’s hand hang loosely from the bed while the smile disappeared from his face.

John glanced at the two kids already in bed, and closed the door quietly after himself. He left only a night lamp on while he took a quick shower before he slipped into bed beside his youngest. Dean was aware of all of that, only pretending he was asleep and letting sleep claim him only when all the lights in the room were out. 

Sam mewled into the night, reaching out one more time, but there was no one to take his hand again, filling Sam’s dreams with loneliness…

Next day at school Dean didn’t go to seek out the girl (whose name he didn’t even remember). She wasn’t important. Sammy was. Kissing was fine, but spending time with Sam was more interesting at the moment… especially when he saw the very same girl kissing some other guy at the beginning of the lunch break, so making a decision was rather easy. 

Sam gave him a curious look, eyebrows almost reaching the hairline.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Sam said and poked the food on his plate with a fork, the corners of his mouth twitching in a suppressed grin.

Dean didn’t meet up with the girl anymore and Sam’s mood improved a little bit. It was about the two of them again, they didn’t need anyone else.

Three days later, when they returned from school, Dad said only one word. “Pack.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other and proceeded into the room to collect their things while John was making sure the trunk of the Impala was loaded with everything it was supposed to be, whatever it meant (according to Dean it was guns and ammo, according to Sam it was something he didn’t want to know about, but he admitted Dean was right, judging from the familiar smell).

John drove for hours. Sam had fallen asleep long ago with his head on Dean’s thigh. After some time, Dean drifted off, too, and woke up only when John parked the Impala in front of the office of a motel. He told Dean to stay in and wait (like Dean felt like moving at all… *yawn*) and walked into the office to come out later with a key from one of the rooms. Once the Impala was parked in the place in front of their room, John gave the key to Dean and took Sammy, who was still sleeping, into his arms.

Dean shuffled to the door and opened it for John to enter. He found the switch and turned the light in the room on. Sam frowned and growled silently, trying to hide his face in his father’s jacket. John put him down on one of the beds gently and took his boots off carefully.

“Go to bed, too, Dean,” he said to his eldest. “I’ll bring the duffels in and go to sleep as well.” He pulled covers over Sam’s small body. Sam mewled and huddled deeper into the sheets.

John walked out of the room.

Dean hesitated, looking at his sleeping brother. Glancing at the door, he took a daring step toward the occupied bed. What if he….? Was he pushing his luck? Would Dad make a fuss if he found Dean curled up on the bed next to Sammy? He took another step… stretched out a hand, ready to touch the beddings… when the door opened again and John came in, carrying three duffel bags. Dean straightened up immediately.

“Dean. Bed,” John said softly and motioned to the empty bed.

Dean decided. “Dad,” he started carefully. “I…” he looked at his brother. “Can I… with Sammy?” He fixed hopeful eyes on his father.

“No,” John only said and started getting himself ready for bed.

Dean sighed in defeat, took off his boots and crawled in the big, cold, unfriendly bed while John stretched out next to Dean’s little brother. Maybe next time he should argue, but now he would only have woken Sam up. And that was absolutely intolerable.

He yawned and promised himself that next time he wouldn’t let it go. 

Another town, another motel room, another school. Shooting practice after school, reading maps, fighting, using knives and other weapons, running, hiking during weekends, tracking, learning exorcisms, and finding out the world was much darker than they had ever thought…

“When you are out there, you are alone. You have to be able to take care of yourself. No one saves you but you alone.”

Dean didn’t believe John’s statement entirely. Sam didn’t believe it at all. He looked at Dean and he knew Dad was talking bullshit. 

“Sammy, are you listening to me?”

Oh, Sam did hear John all right, but he kept looking at his brother, who shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Sammy?”

Finally, very slowly, Sam turned to John. “How did Mom die?”

John froze, staring at his little son, then his face hardened; he turned around and walked away. The lesson of surviving for beginners was over.

“Sammy, you idiot!” Dean hissed.

“Why? You don’t want to know?”

Dean gazed at Sam, shocked and hurt, and then he gritted his teeth and turned away.

Sam’s heart sank. “Dean?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Don’t…” Sam whispered as he pressed into Dean from behind, wrapping his arms around him. He felt the familiar flow of emotions, anger at himself this time, but it was slowly evaporating.

Dean sighed quietly, patting Sam’s hands. “I’m calm now. Can you let me go?”

Sam buried his face in Dean’s back. “Only if you promise you won’t be pissed anymore.”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Sam took a deep breath of Dean’s scent and let his arms fall. Dean stood still a moment longer before he stepped away from his brother.

When John returned a few hours later, he didn’t talk to the boys. Sam was okay with that, but it troubled Dean. The evening was silent and when all of them turned in, Sam and Dean kept looking at each other for a long time until they fell asleep.

Things didn’t change much in the months to come. Sam hated coming to a new town every few weeks, changing schools, living in stinking motel rooms or staying in care of babysitters when Dad went for a hunt, and he especially loathed Dad’s efforts to train them into soldiers. They still talked to each other but only when they needed, with Dean captured between them. The more John tried to occupy them with different activities, the more Sam clung to Dean afterwards and the more John scowled at them. Dean wanted to avoid making Dad angry, but he didn’t want to disappoint Sam either. John made it easier for him to find the balance between mutual activities with Sammy and minding his own business when he started spending more time out, hunting something evil as Dean assumed.

When Dean turned twelve, the curfew hours stopped being so strict for him. He could stay out longer while Sam was supposed to be home (read: a motel room or a babysitter’s house) by eight. That was another thing Sam hated. With every new town Dean stuck to Sam’s curfew at first (that part Sam loved), but there were always girls – older, of the same age, blonde, dark-haired, redheads, tall and petite… And Dad supported Dean’s dating activities, even gave him money to take a girl out while he either practiced shooting with Sam or (if they were in the care of a babysitter) the younger boy was supposed to do his homework or go to bed.

So Dean dated. At the age of twelve he already knew how girls tasted and that kissing could be good, very good even, and that his conversational skills sucked. So he trained, always asking a new girl out, had fun, learned to talk to them, kissed a lot, and then returned back home to his sulking little brother. If he was lucky, the next day he found another chick hoping she’d be the one he’d finally stay with.

Dean didn’t care about them. They were pretty and nice, and, yes, it wasn’t right deceiving them like this, but it was pointless trying to find a longer relationship if he was leaving again soon. Besides, dating and not promising anything still felt more right than trying for something more – THAT felt like true cheating. Dean didn’t expect anything from the girls he dated but fun, and if they expected something from him, it was their problem, not his.

Fun. That was all his dating was about. And exploring. Finding out that someone else’s hands on him could feel almost as good as kissing and that groping some parts of a girl’s body while doing it was freaking amazing. But he always missed something important he couldn’t name and hoped that with a next girl he would finally find out what it was.

He never did.

But then, when he pressed a goodnight kiss to Sammy’s furrowed forehead, he felt peaceful, nice and finally at home.

He knew Sammy didn’t like what he was doing, always crinkling his little nose and telling Dean he smelled like a chemical factory (from where did the kid learn such words?), but never pulled away, never tried to prevent Dean from touching him, never missed a chance to cuddle to up to his big brother. However sulky and pissed he tried to look, Dean could feel the purest happiness seeping from Sam’s every pore when he returned to him – and that was something worth going somewhere every evening and coming back. The best part of Dean’s dates, but he never said it aloud. It was his secret, his treasure, which he wanted to protect.

Sam turned eight and became bitchy. His silent attitude toward John turned into open arguments, ending up with John shouting and Sam baring his teeth and growling, then John threatening to chain him like a dog to his bed if he does that again and Sam yelling that he would run before John had a chance to do it and take Dean with him. Once the argument escalated to John cuffing Sam to a motel bed, just to prove that he could do it and he would. The action took Sam by surprise; he never expected their father to do something like that for real, and it only filled him with new anger, a true rage. He pulled the cuffs, rattled them, growled and yelled and cursed and promised he would run and never come back.

Dean wasn’t home that evening (as usual), which was only good for him. Sam knew this would break his heart. Dean hated when Sam and Dad argued, but for some reason Sam couldn’t find the power to stop. It was fear that fueled his anger – the fear that if Dad kept trying to hold them apart most of the time, Dean would forget about Sam one day, he would follow his own life without Sam in it. The idea scared the crap out of him.

When he finally shut up, pissed and helpless, plotting revenge (concerning teeth and pain) and fighting the tears collecting in the corners of his eyes, he realized his Dad was talking with someone on the phone, his and Dean’s names falling from his lips a way too often.

“No, I can’t do that, Pamela. They’d be too obvious. One broken Protector and they’re exposed.”

Silence for a while, and then:

“I said NO. I don’t want Sammy to know that. He’s safer this way.”

This sounded interesting. Sam held his breath and listened carefully. Whoever was on the other side of the line, John’s patience with them was coming to an end, and judging from how mad he had been just a while ago, Sam was sure it would be a quick process.

John didn’t disappoint him. After a few tense minutes there was the explosion Sam had anticipated.

“What part of ‘No, I won’t do that’ you don’t understand? I won’t sacrifice my kids to some mystic bond they supposedly have! I would rather separate them for good if it saves their sorry little asses! Or I’ll make Dean cut Sam off. Anything to save them. They’re my kids, for fuck’s sake, I’ll protect them, no matter the cost.”

A second of silence and then a new, scarier explosion:

“DON’T TELL ME WHAT I WILL OR WON’T DO! It’s my decision. I’ll beat that Protector crap outta Sammy’s dog head.”

Sam wasn’t listening to him anymore. The words about separation were enough for him to panic. He started pulling at the cuffs frantically, biting the metal chain but only hurting his teeth. He was crying for real now. _No, no, no, that can never happen! DEAN!_

He didn’t hear his Dad saying to the person on the phone that he was done with them and never wanted to see them around Sam and Dean. Nothing of that was important if he was to lose Dean, if he was to leave him. He couldn’t allow that. He had to find Dean and tell him and persuade him to run away. He had to… _had_ to… if only he hadn’t been cuffed to that stupid bed!

The door of the motel room banged shut and Sam realized he was alone. Still in restraints and in panic. He yanked against the cuffs with all his force, hoping his thin hand and even thinner wrist would slip through the cold metal, but nothing happened except that he scratched his skin. Sam whined unhappily and tried again. The loop wasn’t so tight; if he only tried more, curled his hand a bit more, and tried to pull it through the ring more methodically… He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down a little. It didn’t help much, Dean’s face was still flashing in front of his eyes and fear was clouding his mind. But he HAD to get out from there, to warn Dean, to be with him… That was his goal, there was nothing more important than Dean, and if Sam failed, he was not good enough to be close to him.

He gritted his teeth and pulled and pulled despite the pain the cuffs caused him, despite the scratched skin and blood oozing from the wounds, making his hand slippery and more pliable.

He was determined. He fought for his freedom and his life, for his only true reason to live. _Dean… Dean…_ The thought encouraged him, blunting everything that could distract him from his task. There was nothing that could stop him. Not pain, not tiredness, not even Dad.

Through the tears filling his eyes and rolling down his cheeks he could hardly see the mess his hand was turning into. But the wetness was good, was helping to move the tight ring little by little until the last, violent tug, and it slipped from his hand, clattering loudly against the metal bed construction.

He was free.

The feeling of victory didn’t last long. He still had to find Dean before Dad found him first and took him away from Sam.

The panic was back, and Sam had real problems to keeping it at bay and concentrating on what was important.

He ran out from the room and sniffed the air, smelling coming summer and soil and grass, gas and dust and human sweat and cigarettes. He listened to the evening sounds, to the rumbling engines of cars passing by, the voices of people somewhere in the distance, their laughter and their soft snorts and huffs, rustling of leaves in the treetops, flies looking for light… But Dean… Where could he be?

Sam took a deep breath, letting all the smells and sounds fill his mind and fade away until only one thought stayed. Dean. Dean’s tracks.

Sam concentrated and made the first step…

He walked the dark town illuminated by the artificial light of streetlamps and the lights from shops and restaurants. From time to time he stopped and sniffed the air, trying to read any potential danger from it. Once, his nose warned him of a bunch of obviously drunk guys, later he almost bumped into a police patrol, but his keen ears gave him the memo before he stepped out from a shadow into a well-lit street. He knew that an eight-year-old, wandering alone late in the evening, was conspicuous enough.

He started feeling cold. He had forgotten his jacket in the motel room as he had wanted to find Dean as fast as possible. The plaid shirt couldn’t keep the evening coldness away as he roamed the streets, the hurt hand stinging like a bitch and still bleeding. Sam pulled the sleeve of his shirt over it to hide the wounds from the curious looks of people, passing by shop windows, diners and restaurants in a hurried pace, following the odd feeling in his guts, rushing him forward.

_Dean, where are you?_

The soft breeze blew into his face, and Sam sniffed again. The suddenness of the familiarity in the mix of smells almost knocked him down from his feet and made his heart beat faster. But where was it coming from? Sam looked around, trying to recognize the precious face in the sea of strangers… but it was nowhere to be seen and the smell was so faint that Sam was impressed with himself that he was able to catch it at all. He cast his gaze to the pavement and wondered how weird it would be if he pressed his nose to the ground and started sniffing there where Dean’s feet surely touched it. He would have identified the right direction.

Sam looked around and crouched, his head lowered, his hands pressed to the pavement and supporting his weight as he bent lower. Yes, Dean had been there and he had walked the way… Sam took a deep breath and lifted his head, his eyes widening as he noticed the figure of his brother in the window of a fast food restaurant just across the street. He leapt to his feet and crossed the road, cars honking at him as he zigzagged among them, almost ending up under one of them if the driver hadn’t stamped on the brake.

But Sam didn’t realize how close to fatality he had been. He ran to the door of the restaurant and yanked it open… he was there. He did it. He found Dean…

His brother was sitting at one of the tables with a redhead girl, chomping on a burger while she was sipping from her plastic glass of soda coquettishly.

Sam walked over there, his eyes fixed on his grinning brother.

“Dean,” he said in a voice full of relief and the forgotten tears started filling his eyes again. The fear was back, but this time Dean was there, not gone, but the only thing Sam could do was stand there and gaze at his brother like he had never seen him before.

“Sammy?” Dean’s surprise and confusion was more than obvious. “What are you doing here? Where’s Dad?”

The mention of Dad woke Sam up from his numbness, the streams of tears wetting his cheeks. He collapsed in Dean’s arms like a rag doll, face buried in the crook of Dean’s neck, hands clutching his jacket like Sam was never letting him go. The injured hand left dark smudges wherever it touched Dean’s clothes.

“He wants to separate us,” Sam forced out between his loud sobs. The world around stopped existing, it was only Dean and him and his misery.

“What? Who? Sammy, what happened?” Dean asked, glancing at the girl opposite him. More than embarrassed of his little brother turning up in the restaurant unexpectedly and ruining his date, as he was crying loudly in his arms he felt more concerned about the thing that upset Sam so much.

“Dad. He doesn’t want us to be together,” Sam sobbed. “I heard him telling someone on the phone.”

“You surely misheard. He wouldn’t do that,” Dean said soothingly, holding Sam tight.

Sam pulled away a bit, anger and fear in his wet hazel eyes. “I _didn’t_ mishear!” he growled into Dean’s face before he curled up in his arms again.

“Is everything okay?” the girl asked, filling Sam’s heart with ice.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s all right, Sheryl.”

There was silence for a heartbeat.

“It’s Sheila,” said the girl disappointedly, and it was supposed to please Sam that Dean couldn’t remember the girl’s name, but there were things more important than some cheap redhead. Sam pressed closer.

“Sorry,” Dean said awkwardly, and he wasn’t holding Sam in his arms anymore. Instead, he put his hands on Sam’s shoulders and pulled him away, giving him a long, careful, frowning look.

“What the hell happened, Sam? What’s up with you? What…?” His gaze slid to Sam’s injured hand and the words stayed stuck in his throat. He grabbed Sam’s wrist, gazing at the ugly looking scratches. "Son of a bitch!” he cried Dad’s favorite curse. He looked at the girl _(Shirley?)_ pleadingly. “Could you ask the staff for a first-aid kit?”

She nodded mutely and left the table for a moment. When she returned, a waitress accompanied her. Seeing Sam’s bloody hand, she hurried away to return with the first-aid kit and started mending Sam’s injuries while Dean held him.

Sam whined as the antiseptic came into contact with his wounds, but Dean’s frown silenced him. He was still clutching Dean’s jacket and Dean had his arm wound around him, so it was okay. He could be quiet.

The waitress bandaged his hand gently. “Maybe he should see a doctor,” she suggested as she finished.

“Yeah, I’ll take him there,” Dean said, but Sam knew they were just words to calm her down. She nodded, taking the kit and leaving them alone.

Dean looked at the girl. “I’m sorry, I have to take him home.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll call you.”

“Sure.”

Sam could hear the empty tone of Dean’s words and the doubt in the girl’s voice. Dean was not going to call her and she was not going to wait for it. They didn’t want to have to do anything with each other, and that was a comforting thought.

Dean prodded Sam to stand up and together with the redhead they neared the counter where Dean paid for the food. Then he took off his jacket and handed it to Sam.

“Put it on.”

Sam sized Dean up. “But…”

“Shut up and put it on.”

Before Sam could try to protest again, Dean helped him into the jacket, his eyes warning Sam that arguing would be pointless. Then he took Sam’s good hand, pulling him out from the restaurant. The girl was already gone, but Dean didn’t seem to even realize that unimportant fact. They walked down the street side by side, hand in hand.

“Okay, Sammy. Now tell me what happened,” Dean said softly after a while.

Sam wiped the tears from his eyes away. “Dad and I argued again…”

“Sammy…” Dean sighed, not pleased at all.

“He threatened to tie me to the bed if I growl at him again, only this time he really did. He cuffed me to it, and then had the phone call… I heard him to say he would…” His voice broke, the word sounding like a death sentence and he didn’t want to die just yet.

“Are you sure?” Dean asked doubtfully.

“Yes, I am,” Sam replied firmly.

Dean glanced at him.

“What?”

“You got away.” Sam caught a trace of awe in Dean’s undertone.

He shrugged. “I wanted to find you.”

“You’re good,” Dean said, looking somewhere into the distance.

“Dean, why don’t we run away? We’d be together. I will never leave you, Dean, please.”

Dean stopped, big green eyes fixed on Sam. “Are you serious?”

Sam nodded, a tiny blade of hope growing in him. “Please?”

“No.”

The hope died. “Why not?”

“We’re too young, Sammy. We wouldn’t make it alone out there. Either Dad or the Police would find us. Someone would. And if not them, then something darker.”

“We can fight. You’re good at shooting and I am at tracking. I sniffed you out just now…”

“No, Sammy,” Dean said more resolutely. “We know too little.”

“I hate Dad’s training,” Sam said sulkily.

“But without it you would be as helpless as a blind man in the middle of a road during rush hour.”

Sam lowered his head, shuffling next to Dean toward their motel.

“Don’t worry, Sammy. I won’t let him take you away from me.”

Sam raised his head, staring at Dean. “Can you do that?”

Dean wasn’t looking at him, but his face was hard, determined. “I’ll do everything to prevent it from happening.”

Sam squeezed Dean’s hand. “So will I.”

Dean nodded. “Good.”

The rest of the walk they spent in silence. Dean was tense, Sam could feel it. He was jittery himself.

As they neared the motel room, they could see the light penetrating out from under the door. Sam held Dean’s hand tighter, courage leaving them both.

“I’m late,” Dean said like that was the problem here. Sam shifted closer, the injured hand pressed to his racing heart. He didn’t want to go in there. He anticipated a punishment for getting out of the cuffs and running away.

Dean reached for the handle and pressed it. The door opened, so agonizingly slowly as it appeared to Sam, revealing their father standing by a table and studying a tourist map of the town. He looked up toward the door, and giving a long breath of relief, he straightened up. “Thank God,” was all he said.

Sam and Dean waited in the doorway a moment longer, waiting for a fit, but nothing came, just a deep silence.

They entered the room carefully, still holding onto each other tightly.

“Dad?” Dean addressed him, nearing the table with the map on which John had stood a bottle of whiskey, not bothering to have folded the map. He poured a generous amount into a glass and took a sip.

“I’m late, I’m sorry,” Dean said, not knowing what to think, but trying to shift Dad’s attention from Sammy to himself nevertheless.

“You are,” John said calmly. “You’re grounded for a day.”

Still no anger.

“Er… okay.”

Dean closed the door behind them and then pulled his brother deeper into the room, both passing the table in a large circle.

“I need to talk to you two,” John said, putting the glass on the table, his eyes fixed on Sam half-hidden behind Dean. “Sammy…”

Sam looked away, shivering all over with fear and despair, one hand clutching Dean’s hand, the fingers of the other curled in Dean’s shirt. There was no way he was going to let go any time soon. The sleeve of Dean’s jacket slid lower a little bit, revealing the bandage.

John noticed it, regret filling his voice as he spoke again. “I’m sorry, Sammy. I only wanted to make a point. It wasn’t supposed to go so far…”

Sam didn’t say anything, but his heart was beating frantically against Dean’s body.

“Sam.”

Sam didn’t react, so Dean took pity on him and asked what had bugged him ever since Sam turned up in the restaurant. “Dad, Sammy said he heard you telling someone on the phone that you were going to separate us,” he said in a low, trembling voice. He was frightened to know the truth, but he needed to know.

John sighed and sank in a chair heavily, sipping from the whiskey again. Dean’s eyes widened in horror, Sam’s finger’s digging into his flesh painfully.

“Are you?” he asked fearfully.

John put the glass back on the table and looked at his sons. “No,” he said, “but,” he continued, not giving the boys a false hope, “if it’s the only way to keep you two safe, I won’t hesitated to do it whether you like it or not.”

He sighed at the horrified looks.

“You need to understand… You both need to understand. I’m trying to protect you. There are things you don’t know about, dark things, and I’m trying to keep them away from you. But you must help me.” He looked right at Sam, who stared back at him like a deer caught in headlights. “You must stop calling the dog inside of you out, Sammy, or it’ll eat you alive. Do you understand me? You must stop.”

Sam only gazed as if Dad had said something absolutely incomprehensible. For him, he apparently had. And it didn’t feel right, not at all.

“Dad,” Dean wanted to protest for Sam’s sake, but he realized he didn’t know what to say.

“And you, Dean, you should stop taking advantage of your brother’s ability to moderate your emotions. You should be able to deal with them on your own,” John said more roughly.

“What? I don’t…!”

“Enough! Now off to bed you two. It was a long day…”

“Yes, sir,” Dean said emotionlessly, pushing Sam toward the bathroom. Sam went without protest. When Dean closed the door behind them, he looked at him coyly.

“Dean.”

“Yes?” Dean asked as he was helping Sam out of the borrowed jacket, careful about his injured hand.

“What do I do wrong?” Sam asked, the question so innocent, so clueless.

Dean started undoing the buttons on Sam’s shirt, trying to postpone the moment when he’d have to respond. Sam was watching him, and probably he wasn’t even breathing, waiting for the answer.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked when he thought the silence lasted too long, his eyes meeting Sam’s.

“Dad said I had to stop calling the dog out, but I don’t,” Sam said urgently. “I don’t call the dog out!” his voice changed into an excited whisper.

“Shh, Sammy, it’s okay.”

“No! Dean, I can’t stop calling the dog out. I don’t know how to do it. It’s there, the dog. In me. It wants what I want...” Sam was now talking fast, reaching for Dean again and preventing him from pulling the shirt gently from his arms.

“Stop fidgeting, Sammy. I don’t want to hurt your hand more than it is.”

“… I want to be with you,” Sam continued as if he hadn’t heard. “Dean, I think _I’m the dog_.”

Dean sighed and stopped trying for the impossible. The shirt was now hanging from Sam’s shoulders, looking comical. “You’re not a dog, Sammy,” he said kindly, but it felt like a terrible lie.

Hell, it _was_ a lie! Sam might look human, walk like a human, talk like a human, but he was a dog as well. A tracker, a guardian, a companion… The realization wasn’t as shocking as Dean would have expected, however it left him with a question about whether Dad thought that Sam could simply switch off such an important part of his personality.

He reached for Sam’s bandaged wrist and undid the button on the sleeve so that Sam could get his hand through it comfortably. The whole time, he was avoiding Sam’s eyes, which were perfectly reflecting everything Dean felt – a mirror of Dean’s emotions. The part of himself he didn’t want to know about. But Sam knew him better than anyone else, better than Dad, knew him inside out, he knew Dean’s strong points and weaknesses, so he couldn’t be fooled.

“Do you really think that?” Sam asked in a hushed voice, not fearful this time – oh, no! Dean wished it had only been fear – but disappointed, hurt… betrayed.

Dean bit his lip, reaching for the hem of Sam’s undershirt to pull it over his head without tangling his unfortunate hand in the fabric. The action prevented Sam from keeping his eyes fixed on his brother, and Dean could breathe freely for a moment.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he asked as if he hadn’t heard Sam’s question, looking at the younger boy’s jeans, “You don’t need my help with these, do you?”

Sam shook his head.

“Okay, here’s your towel. If you need anything, call me,” Dean said as he hung a fluffy motel towel over the edge of the bathtub. Then he collected the needless clothes and left his brother alone in the bathroom.

John was still sitting at the table, drinking whiskey, when Dean entered the room. He didn’t lift his eyes from the glass in front of him as the boy moved around the room. Dean hung his jacket on a peg next to the door and then folded Sam’s shirt and undershirt and put them away. He found his little brother’s pajamas and returned into the bathroom. Sammy was already sitting in the bathtub with his feet under the warm stream of running water, his teeth engaged in a pointless fight with the tight bandage on his hand.

“I brought you your PJs. What are you doing?”

Sam looked up, the bandage still stuck between his teeth. When he spotted Dean, he quickly pulled his hand away.

“It’s wet. It annoys me,” he complained.

“I’ll change the bandage when you get out. Don’t spend eternity in here, I want to take a bath as well.”

Sam gave a funny sound, but said nothing intelligible, so Dean left the bathroom, taking Sam’s jeans with him.

“Dad? Where is the first aid kit? Sammy’s bandage needs to be changed,” he asked casually, but the small wince from his father didn’t escape his careful eye and neither did the guilt in his face.

“In the car,” John said, his voice gruff. “Here’re the keys.” He handed them to his son.

Dean took the keys and left the room. He took a deep breath, looking for composure in the cool evening air.

He didn’t stay out for too long, he wanted to be there when Sam got out from the bathroom. Yet, when he came back, he found out that nothing had changed; soft splashing noises where coming from behind the bathroom door and Dad was still sitting at the table, but this time not drinking, instead writing something into his journal.

Dean crossed the room and put the kit on his bed. He gave himself a moment to think…

“Dad?” he said, hypnotizing the first aid kit as if it could give him more courage.

“What?” Nor did John look up from his journal.

“Can Sammy sleep in my bed tonight?” He heard the pen meet the table and he chanced a glance at his father, meeting John’s eyes.

“Why?” John asked, no heat, no anger, just a plain question spoken in a low voice.

“Because,” Dean straightened up, trying to look braver than he felt, “he’s still upset. I can calm him down.”

John leaned back against the backrest of the chair, looking somewhere in the distance. He was quiet for a while. Dean’s heart was beating wildly, he didn’t dare to move, didn’t dare to breath. The splashing of water was heard from the bathroom… and then silence. Sam got out from the bathtub and was getting dressed.

“Fine, but it’s the last time,” John sad, turning to Dean. “Sammy should have his own bed finally…” he finished and bent over his journal once again.

Dean thought that was the most he could get from his father. As for John, even that was too generous and Dean should be happy with the result. And he was. Maybe too much. One more night… one more chance to hold his brother and sink into easy, carefree, happy dreams. Oh, Dean knew what effect Sam had on him, how he was bringing peace and relief into Dean’s troubled mind, how he always managed to calm him down, take the pain and sorrow away. It had taken him some time to realize, but once he did, the urge to protect Sammy got stronger.

The door of the bathroom opened.

“You can go,” Sam said, lifting his bandaged hand to his mouth and frowning.

“Come here, Sammy.” Dean patted the place on the bed next to the first aid kit. “I’ll change that wet bandage.”

Sam crossed the room, throwing a quick, careful look at their father, who watched his hurried steps toward the bed. Sam sat down nervously and let Dean take care of his hand.

Dean uncoiled the wet bandage and dried Sam’s hand carefully with a towel. Then he took out an antiseptic spray from the first aid kit. Sam winced, pulling his hand out of Dean’s involuntarily.

“Easy, it’s okay,” Dean said soothingly, holding Sam’s hand as he sprayed the ugly looking scratches with the antiseptic. Sam gave a low whine, his puppy dog eyes pleading.

“Shhh, it’s all right. I got you,” Dean whispered, glancing at John, who looked like he didn’t pay them attention, but Dean wasn’t fooled. John knew exactly what was going on between the boys.

Dean smiled at his little brother encouragingly. “You’ll sleep with me tonight.”

Sam’s eyes went wide and hopeful, but there were doubts in them, too.

“Dad allowed. This one night.”

Sam’s face changed. There were no doubts anymore, only the deepest trust, awe and admiration. Short arms wound around Dean’s neck, the little body pressing to him tightly, a stifled whine, masked as a cough, sounded in his ear – and Dean understood. He would always understand.

“I miss you, too,” he said inaudibly, just a movement of lips against Sam’s neck, but he knew Sam decoded it anyway. He could feel the warm flow of the purest happiness flooding him, and he had to smile.

Sam purred contentedly, his nose, nuzzling Dean’s ear.

Dean patted his back. “Okay, puppy, I’m going to wash myself now.”

The younger boy huffed, but Dean could still feel the happy smile gracing his skin. Sam pulled away a bit, but then he was there again, warm lips touching Dean’s in a brief, chaste kiss – the goodnight kiss. Then Sam climbed in bed, and Dean put the first aid kit away before he covered his little brother with a comforter. He could see what Sam was doing, taking everything he could, everything Dean was willing to give. Dean wasn’t quite sure what that “everything” meant, but he was prepared to give it to his brother anyway, no matter the cost.

“I’ll be quick,” he promised, getting no more than a weak nod as response, Sam’s eyelids already heavy with sleep that wanted to claim him.

He was back in a few short minutes, crawling into bed next to his brother, who acknowledged his presence with a silent, content sigh and snuggled up to Dean.

John Winchester watched his boys long after they had entered a dreamland, a tight knot of two bodies, and was afraid. With a heavy feeling in his heart, he read the entry in his journal:

_Today I cuffed my son to a bed. I know I shouldn’t have done it, the action separated us even more. But Sammy can be a true pain in the ass when he is in a mood._

_I’m trying to protect my sons. I’m trying to hide them from those who can recognize them. If I have to weaken their bond in order to save their lives, I’m willing to take that step. If I have to make Dean cut Sammy off, I’m doing it without hesitation. I know I would hurt them and they would never forgive such a thing, but I can’t lose them just like I lost Mary. She protected this family with her life and I want to honor her memory by doing the same. Our boys have to survive._

_The things I found out scare the crap outta me. Protectors are losing their powers, losing their essence. They’re mad and broken, dangerous to anyone. I killed two this week… If I try to imagine Sammy ending up like that, my skin crawls and I know I have to do something, even though it hurts, but the longer I watch my sons, the surer I am that the time when I still could do something about it is long gone._

_Sammy gave me a lesson today. Showed me how much I screwed up on so many levels – like a father, like a guardian, like a hunter. While the thing that wants to hurt him is still out there, I have no choice but to carry on. I’m considering a separation. I can’t allow their bond to develop unless I kill the evil son of a bitch that is responsible for this. It won’t be as painful now as it would be if I did it later. I only want what is best for them. I want them to live._

_I want them to have a happy life, but here I think I screwed up most. Karen married her Warrior. Pamela suffered her whole life, cursing the moment when her Jesse met his girlfriend. I can see Sammy walking the same path._

_At least I can do something for Dean. I can push him in the right direction, show him what’s right and protect him from the general condemnation. That’s what I have to do. That’s what I will do, so help me God…_

John closed his journal, took a quick shower, and went to bed as well.

 


	3. Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

 

It took John a long time to proceed to the painful step he decided to take. Maybe he was just waiting for a sign that he was right, or an excuse, because the boys were never going to forgive him. He guarded them, tried to keep them occupied in different activities, but it was not always possible and there was work to do…

Summer came and John thought that was the right time to drop Sammy at Bobby’s… but the evil lurked in the darkness and he had to take care of it first. In between hunts he devoted his time to teaching the boys fighting, shooting, tracking, and other useful stuff. While he left one of them with a babysitter, he spent the time with the other one. This way he kept them separate and effectively used the little free time he managed to save for his sons. Dean was a great fighter, determined and concentrated, a good shooter as well. Sammy, on the other hand, was a perfect tracker, calm, focused… and angry. John didn’t remember the last time Sammy looked at him without anger and accusation. The fire in his eyes was getting stronger and it was just a matter of time when Sam would explode again. John was sure that now it would get really nasty…

Summer passed and the boys went back to school. John didn’t know how much time his sons spent together anymore, he was sure they always found a way back to each other when he wasn’t anywhere around. He spent much less time with them than during the summer break. But whenever he could, he kept them apart. Sam hated him for that, he could see it in his eyes, feel it in his actions, and Dean didn’t like it much more than his brother, but he at least didn’t try to give John a hard time for it. Sam argued, Sam sulked, Sam moped, Sam didn’t talk, Sam didn’t listen, and Sam made things difficult in so many ways John didn’t even know were possible.

Dean never said anything, taking neither John’s side nor Sam’s. Maybe he did talk to Sam when they were alone, coming from school together or sleeping at a babysitter’s, but John never knew about it.

And then, the sign he was waiting for came.

John only found out from the headmaster of the school they went to at the moment. Dean got into a fight with some boys for a girl. Sam happened to be around by chance and mixed into the fight. The scenario was too familiar to John from their younger years: Sam defending Dean and Dean trying to pull him out of the fight to prevent him from getting hurt.

What John didn’t know was the fact that it wasn’t about a chick, though a chick was involved. Since the time Dad had cuffed Sam to the bed and Sam had run away to find Dean, Dean hadn’t gone for a date. Sure, there were girls, pretty girls willing to give him whatever he wanted, he just didn’t feel like taking. Right now things were pretty shitty in their family and Dean felt like he had to keep a careful eye on his brother. Not mentioning that Sam was grateful for any minute he could spend with Dean, the adoring looks and happy smiles melting Dean’s heart every time he could see them. Sam was his drug and Dean couldn’t get enough of him… Girls were too distracting.

And so it happened there was this one girl, feeling offended by Dean’s rejection. The girl had an older brother (with an obvious sister-complex) and she fooled him into thinking that Dean had forced himself on her. The fooled (and stupid) brother sought Dean out to make him understand that his sister’s virtue was untouchable. Dean may have settled things if Sammy hadn’t entered the scene, and when he found out what the thing was about, he didn’t hesitate to call the guy names for offending his big brother, yelling at him how stupid he was and that his sister was just a whore (Dean could only shake his head at Sam’s vocabulary) who probably hadn’t been a virgin since she was five… That was the moment when the guy attacked. He got knocked out by the brothers, who wanted to protect each other (which wasn’t such a good idea anyways, because they almost knocked each other out in the process). Only… the guy wasn’t alone, so Sam and Dean were actually thankful for the fighting lessons their father gave them…

And then teachers were there and everything was over. Bruised and sulking, the Winchester brothers visited the principal’s office, getting a reprimand, until John came to pick them up. And if the boys had been mad at each other – Dean at Sam for his unrequired help and Sam at Dean for not getting the fact that his help was needed – John’s anger was something that drew them close again, they were on the same side, in the same boat, going to suffer the same thunderstorm.

John really tried to convince himself that it was just brotherly love that had drawn Sammy into the fight, but, as he found out later from the boys’ argument , Sam had come running from a different part of the school, so he MUST have known something had been off with Dean, must have SENSED it. (“I didn’t need you to protect my dignity.” “I wasn’t protecting your dignity! I was afraid, you idiot!” “Don’t call me idiot, idiot! I really don’t need you to come rushing from the middle of your classes every time there is a slight disagreement between me and a couple of assholes…” “Slight disagreement!? They were beating you K.O. when I came!” “They were not!”)

And still, he hesitated.

Until he was warned again.

It happened the next day after the school incident. John decided to give his boys a ride to school before he went to check some things of his own. They made a stop at a gas station. While John tanked, the boys got out from the car. He left them wait for him until he paid, and when he got out from the gas station store with some snack for both of them, he saw a guy, a soldier, talking to the boys, his eyes reflecting surprise and hunger of a beast of prey.

“How old are you, boy?” the soldier asked Sammy.

Sam looked at him with surprise, confusion written all over his face. He sniffed in the guy’s direction, obviously not understanding what was going on, but John knew, oh, he knew so very well what was going on here. Sammy met a Protector and he recognized him, though he didn’t know what it meant, but he felt that the guy was of the same sort as him. And he was recognized himself…

Dean – how proud John was of him at that moment! – stepped in front of Sammy, shielding him from the soldier’s hungry stare, looking at him with suspicion and vigilance.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we are not allowed to talk to strangers,” he said firmly, pushing Sam gently toward the car.

The guy smiled slyly. “Of course, you aren’t.”

John was close to pulling out a gun as he hurried to the car. “Can I help you, sir?” he asked quickly.

The soldier turned to him, the smile still on his face. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help myself. Seeing another of my kind, a kid… I didn’t know they were still being born.”

John frowned, handing the things he bought to Dean and Sam. “Get in the car,” he told them before he turned to the soldier one more time. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir. Have a good day,” he said politely, but in a tone that didn’t allow any objection. He got into the Impala himself, started the engine, and drove away, his heart beating wildly.

So here it was, the real threat. There was no time for hesitation anymore. He needed to get Sammy somewhere safe – to Bobby, the hunter would make sure to take good care of John’s son.

He drove back to the motel room.

“You two get packed before I come back,” he told the boys as he got out from the Impala together with them. He ignored their puzzled faces, the unspoken questions. He let them inside and locked the door after them before he left.

Sam and Dean gaped at the door, then looked at each other.

“What the hell was that?” Dean spoke first, shaking his head unbelievingly.

“I don’t know.”

Dean frowned. “I’m sure it has something to do with the guy from the gas station. He gave me the creeps. Who was he? Why was he so interested in you and what the hell was he talking about?”

Sam shrugged. “No clue,” he said and sat down on Dean’s bed.

Dean gave him a suspicious look. “Sammy?”

 _“I don’t know,”_ Sam repeated with emphasis.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean scoffed. “That’s why you were gaping at him with open mouth the whole time.”

Sam frowned as well. “I wasn’t gaping at him. And my mouth was shut, jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean shot back haughtily. “You sure as hell were. And he looked like he wanted to eat you alive. So… What was that all about?”

Sam sighed. “I don’t know! He scared me, but…”

“But?”

“He felt kind of familiar.”

“Familiar? How so? Have you met him before?”

“No.”

“So?”

Sam shrugged again and lay down, his nose buried in the pillow. He took a deep breath of Dean’s scent captured in the sheets. “He smelled like a jackal,” he said after a while.

Dean’s eyebrows shot high. “What? A jackal?”

“Yup.”

“How do you know how jackals smell?”

Sam raised his head, his eyes wide with astonishment. “I have no idea,” he said slowly. “I just know.”

It was Dean’s turn to sigh. “Of course…” He dug his duffel from under his bed.

“Dean?” Sam addressed him sheepishly. “Does it make me a freak?”

Dean looked at his brother carefully. “Has someone called you that?”

“Yeah, many times.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Sam shrugged. “It didn’t feel important.” He bit his lip, giving Dean a serious look. “Am I a freak?”

Dean breathed out. How was he supposed to answer such a question? He forced himself into a smile. “We both are. But I don’t really mind. Do you?”

Sam blinked, perplexed, but then a slow smile spread across his lips. “I don’t.”

“Great. Now let’s pack before Dad comes. I have a feeling we’re not going to school today.”

“I hate this moving around,” Sam growled into the pillow, but then he got up.

Dean grinned. “Bitch.”

“Why are you calling me that?” Sam asked as Dean helped him to fetch his duffel from under the other bed.

Dean’s grin widened. “Because you’re bitchy, Sammy, you never like anything.”

“That’s not true,” Sam protested. “I like you.”

Dean said nothing, but his roguish grin turned into a warm, gentle smile.

The ride was quiet and boring. The purr of the engine lulled Sam into sleep with his head on Dean’s knees. Dean was watching the changing land behind the window, his hand resting on Sam’s shoulder, the thumb stroking the little brother from time to time absentmindedly.

John’s heart was breaking at the thought of what he was going to do, and he was cursing himself for not doing it long ago. Sammy’s open, fierce love for his brother had blinded him, made him overlook the quiet, brief displays of affection coming from Dean. John had thought that the parting wouldn’t be as painful and damaging to Dean as it was going to be for Sammy, he had believed that their bond hadn’t been fully developed yet. But it was.

He knew so little! The fact that he had never met his Protector made him fumble in darkness. The Protector was probably long dead, but since John had no chance to build a bond, he couldn’t be sure. But… if they were alive, wouldn’t they have sought John out long ago? And would he have been so touchy-feely with his Protector like Dean was with Sammy? He had heard that Protectors usually didn’t get into romantic relationships (and if they did, well, it didn’t last long – unless they had a relationship with their Warriors as he had witnessed in Bobby and Karen’s case), but it didn’t apply to Warriors. They tended to find their life partners, get married, and have children… Dean could have all of that. He should. That was why John pushed him into knowing girls, getting experience. Dean could have a happy life. John was going to make sure he would.

It was late when they finally reached Bobby’s salvage yard. The boys jumped out of the car eagerly, happy to finally stretch their arms and legs comfortably after the long drive and a few short stops for meals and a bathroom. Bobby was surprised to see the Winchester trio on his threshold, but he didn’t let it show.

“You boys look like you’d eat a whole elephant,” he said. Dean smirked and Sam was already making his way into the kitchen. “And you look like you need a drink,” Bobby added as the boys were out of the earshot.

“I need a favor,” John said in an undertone with a pained expression.

“You’ll tell me about it later. Let’s feed your kids now,” Bobby said kindly, heading into the kitchen as well, John following.

As they entered, they became witnesses of an interesting scene. There was a woman standing by the kitchen counter, looking at the two boys, who didn’t make it further than into the doorway. Sam was standing there like he was petrified, staring at the woman, Dean was watching the scene, already frowning and gripping at Sam’s arm, determination to protect his brother from whatever was going on here written on his face.

“You must be Sam,” the woman said gently, and a warm smile curled her lips. “And you are Dean.”

“And you are…?” Dean asked with challenge in his voice, pulling Sammy back, but the younger boy refused to move.

“Pamela,” John said coldly, turning to Bobby. “What the hell is she doing here?”

“I’m kind of living here now. Bobby offered me shelter,” she said matter-of-factly. “Boys hungry?” she asked as she turned to the kitchen counter again.

“God, yes!” Sam cried and ran to Pamela, watching as she was working, watching her in general. She felt familiar, like the soldier back there, but she wasn’t looking at him hungrily, but friendly and with understanding. Being a captive of his interest, he didn’t notice Dean’s disappointment, John’s angry frown and Bobby’s warning glance. “Who are you?” he asked, fascinated.

“Can’t you tell?” A smile was back on her face, amused and kind of mischievous this time.

“Are you like me?” Sam asked, not knowing where the words came from.

She smiled and handed him a plate with a ham sandwich. “You can say that. Dean? You want a sandwich, too?”

“Sure he does,” Bobby said in a tone that didn’t allow any argument. He pushed Dean toward the table at which Sam had just occupied a chair and started wolfing down his sandwich.

Dean shrugged and sat down next to his brother, a plate with a sandwich was put in front of him in a short while. Meanwhile Bobby found a bottle of whiskey and poured it into three glasses. One he handed to John, another to Pamela, and he took the last one. 

They all took a sip from the alcohol, a heavy silence filled the place.

“So… you’re living here now?” John asked Pamela cautiously.

“Yeah, something like that,” she replied and drank her shot down. “That was good,” she said as she put the glass on the table. Her eyes met Sam’s. The boy didn’t stop watching her with interest even while he was eating. She winked at him and Sam cast his eyes down quickly, embarrassed, while Dean glared, warning her with a mere crease of his forehead that if she ever treated Sammy in a wrong way, she’d have something to do with his older brother. Her smile widened, satisfied and confident, earning her another glare, even darker than the first one. She lifted an eyebrow, the same challenge in her face as on Dean’s. They didn’t need words to make things between them crystal-clear, because she knew perfectly well what she had in front of her eyes. What took John such a long time to understand, she figured out in a split of a second. And she liked what she saw.

She saw hope.

There was an awkward silence again. The adults were drinking the booze while the kids were eating. Gradually, Sam stopped gazing at Pamela and Dean stopped glaring – the law of action and reaction in full display. Later, the boys were sent to bed. Bobby put them into the bedroom since Pamela had occupied the guest room. John pressed his lips tighter in silent exasperation as Sam flopped on the double bed happily waiting for Dean to get out from the bathroom and join him.

John’s reactions didn’t escape Bobby’s attention. He had a feeling that the favor John had talked about concerned his sons, and Bobby was sure that he wouldn’t appreciate it.

“What’s up, John?” Bobby asked later as the three adults chilled out in the living room, each of them cradling their own glass of whiskey.

John sighed heavily and drank from the golden liquid. “Would you mind taking Sammy in?”

“You know I wouldn’t. What about Dean?”

“He’s coming with me.” John’s voice was low and impersonal.

Pamela straightened up in her chair. “How long?” she asked.

John looked at her, his eyes gleaming with old fury. “As long as it takes,” he snapped and took a big gulp of the alcohol.

There was a long silence again. Bobby and Pamela were exchanging stealthy looks which John had no problem noticing, but gladly ignored.

“You’re serious,” Pamela said slowly, neither judging nor sounding disappointed or mad. Simply stating the fact.

“Dead serious,” John replied with a slight nod.

“John, what are you doing?” Bobby’s voice didn’t sound as matter-of-fact as Pamela’s; there was a whole load of emotions in it.

“I’m trying to protect my kids,” John answered in self-defense.

“You’ll hurt them!”

“But I’ll keep them alive.” John looked at Bobby; the fire in his eyes would burn even the Devil himself.

There was silence again, heavy, deafening, and violent… The two hunters were staring at each other in a mute battle of wills.

“I’ve already made up my mind,” John spoke firmly after long minutes. “Will you take care of Sam?”

Bobby sighed. The defeat was too heavy, too serious… “You know I will.” Because if he didn’t, John would leave Sam in the care of strangers. How much would Sam have to pay for his father’s determination to protect him no matter the cost and his obsession with the revenge for his wife’s death?

“Why don’t you leave Dean here, too?” Pamela asked, her voice curious, but cold.

“Dean needs to learn…” John stopped mid-sentence and frowned. “What is this? Interrogation?” He stood up from the couch he was sitting on, fixing his eyes on Bobby. “There’s no safer place than here, that’s why I want to leave Sam here. Out there, together with Dean, he’s like a problem magnet. I can’t risk their lives. But I need them to learn to protect themselves, however it’s hard to do it when they’re together. The presence of each other distracts them. I’m leaving Sam here and taking Dean with me – that’s my last word.”

No one said anything more. After John’s speech, they went to sleep soon, unfinished glasses with whiskey decorated the shelves and the desk.

Upstairs, in Bobby’s bedroom, Sam and Dean were sleeping, cuddled to each other; Sam’s head was resting on Dean’s chest and the quiet lullaby sung by Dean’s beating heart brought him good dreams while Dean had his arm wound around Sam’s shoulders, his nose close to Sam’s hair, and he was smiling in his sleep as he was breathing his little brother’s scent. Joy and happiness were written in their faces, and anyone who would have seen them at that moment would have had to admit that they had something special in front of their eyes, something unique and pure, both strong and fragile, something worth preserving and developing, and not breaking and destroying. The living miracle.

Next day no one mentioned the conversation from the previous day. John took off early in the morning, leaving the boys in Bobby and Pamela’s care. Sam and Dean wondered where he had gone, but as long as neither of the two adults could give them a satisfying answer, they decided not to worry and spend the day outside. Dad was going to return. Surely he was.

Bobby and Pamela joined them in the yard, both of them cradling a mug of hot coffee, talking quietly about unimportant things and watching the boys play.

“What do you think?” Pamela asked suddenly, turning to Bobby.

“What? John’s idea? It’s foolish and dumb,” Bobby said sourly.

“If he does it, he’ll hurt the boys immensely. Especially Sam. His existence is conditioned by Dean’s,” she said softly.

Bobby looked at Pamela sharply. “If you think I didn’t try to explain that to him, you’re wrong. The idiot has never met his own Protector, so he has no idea. And as stubborn as he is, he doesn’t even listen. But what can we do? He’s the father, he can do whatever he wants.”

“Even if it hurts his kids?”

“He believes he’s doing what’s best for them.” He sighed. “That’s the tragedy of John Winchester. The way to Hell is always paved with good intentions…”

“Will we let him do it?”

“What do you want to do? You try to oppose him and he takes both kids and drops Sam somewhere else. I’d rather have the boy here, where he’s safe, and you can help him to understand his role in Dean’s life so that he can take over his task when the time comes.”

Pamela didn’t look at him, but smiled gently nevertheless, listening the boys’ cheerful shouts from among the car wrecks. “I can do that,” she said and sipped from her coffee.

The day was going by slowly. The boys enjoyed the day while Bobby and Pamela came to a tacit agreement. John turned up in the afternoon, but he barely said two words to each of them (he didn’t talk to Sammy at all) and retired onto the couch in the living room with a bottle of some cheap booze. With his return the boys got quieter and tried not to attract John’s attention. They didn’t know that he noticed their every move all right…

“You’re such a ray of sunshine,” Bobby said sarcastically after Sam and Dean disappeared upstairs to prepare for bed. Dean didn’t mind early curfew with his little brother. They settled in bed comfortably, Dean in a sitting position and leaning against the headboard and Sam lying next to him, the hazel-green eyes fixed on his big brother and watching him adoringly as Dean read him the book of stories Bobby had given Sam a long time ago.

“Shut up,” John said, but there was no true heat in his voice. He put the glass with the alcohol away. “I enrolled Sammy in school. Will you take him there tomorrow?”

Bobby sighed as he sank in a chair at his desk. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. I want to use Sammy’s absence. Will be easier for them…”

“That’s bull, John Winchester, and you know it!” sounded Pamela’s angry voice from the doorway.

“Do I?” John challenged, his expression hard and uncompromising.

She huffed, annoyed. “How are we supposed to explain yours and Dean’s absence to him?”

“Tell him there is a job to do,” John said resolutely, then gave the two a sharp, intense look. “Can I rely on you? Will Sammy be safe with you?”

“You know we won’t let anyone hurt him, but… John, can’t you just… think about it once again?” Pamela tried.

“I’ve already made up my mind. They’re better off without each other…”

Pamela shook her head. “You don’t believe it yourself.”

John didn’t deny her words, nor did he admit she might be right. Instead, he reached for the glass again.

That night, he ignored the biting urge to go upstairs and check on his kids. He pushed away every image and every memory of them sleeping in one bed snuggled to each other, on the peace reflecting on their faces, on the fact that they belonged to each other… until some evil or necessity tore them apart. John wanted to avoid the doubts about his resolution that such a sight would surely have brought. He couldn’t afford that now even if he was never going to see his children happy and at peace again. This was the last night he could give his boys. Their only goodbye, even though they didn’t know about it yet.

He knew when Bobby and Pamela went upstairs to check on his kids. He heard their careful footsteps on the stairs. He closed his eyes, hoping for the drunkenness to take him into the land of dark dreams of sinners as fast as possible. The day he was going to betray his own children needed him strong and prepared.

“Good night, boys,” he whispered into the darkness as Bobby and Pamela entered the bedroom. The boys were both asleep. Dean was still sitting with is back pressed to the headboard and with the book open in his lap. Sam was lying next to him, his fingers tangled in Dean’s pajama.

Bobby took the book, closing it, and put it on the bedside table. Pamela gently maneuvered Dean into a lying position. He didn’t wake up, but he sighed heavily from his dream and locked his arms around his brother, who had found his way into Dean’s arms immediately after he felt his close presence.

“I’m worried,” Pamela whispered as they backed out from the room. “This is going to be very hard on them. Their bond may be complete, but it’s still too fresh. They’re just kids, they shouldn’t be forced into something like this.”

Bobby ran a hand over his face. “Let’s hope it won’t cause them any permanent damage…”

Wordlessly, Pamela closed the door.

When Dean woke up in the morning, Sam was still sleeping, cuddled up to him. Dean sneaked out from the bed silently, knowing that his absence will wake Sam up anyway, he took his time in the bathroom and then went downstairs into the kitchen.

“Hey, big boy,” Pamela greeted him with a wide smile. “Want pancakes for breakfast?”

Dean shrugged and sat down at the table. She put a full plate in front of him and a bottle of maple syrup.

“Sam?” she asked, attending the frying pan on the stove.

“Sleeping. Where’s Dad?”

“Outside with Bobby. Hey, Sam.”

Dean looked around to see his brother’s sleepy face. Sam rubbed his eyes and stepped inside. He occupied the chair next to Dean, who pushed the plate with the pancakes toward him. Sam took one of them and started eating.

“Milk?” Pamela asked.

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean said while Sam looked like sleep was still captured in his eyelashes, but when a glass of milk appeared in front of him, he reached for it immediately and drank it in one go.

“More?” Pamela asked.

The little boy shook his head, wiping the droplets of milk above his upper lip with the back of his hand. A few minutes later she noticed a half-empty glass in Sam’s hands while the empty glass stood in front of Dean. The older boy was stuffing himself with the pancakes while his younger brother was sipping the milk from time to time and dozing with his head on the table. They both were looking content and relaxed, even happy in their small, private world. Pamela’s heart ached when she thought of what was coming… maybe in a minute… and maybe right now.

John and Bobby entered the kitchen. They both looked at the boys, Bobby’s face regretful, John’s hard and determined. Tension filled the air immediately, only Sam refused to lift his head, though he went rigid almost instantly.

“Done with your breakfast you two?” John asked, no ‘good morning’, no ‘hello’ or ‘hey’, no greeting at all.

“Yes,” Dean said, nudging Sam’s shoulder lightly, but the younger boy still refused to move.

“Fine,” John said, taking a deep breath. “Sammy, go get yourself ready. You’re going to school today. Bobby will take you.”

Sam straightened up in his chair, eyes wide, his expression perplexed, and his gaze sliding from Dad to Bobby to Dean and back to Dad.

“And Dean?” he asked in the end.

“Dean will be with me.”

“Why isn’t he going to school? Are you going to train him?”

John’s face hardened, but when he spoke, his voice was calm and even. “Something like that. Now go so that you’re not late. Dean will help you pack for school.”

Sam didn’t say he didn’t need help and Dean didn’t protest either. They both headed upstairs to do as they were told, suspicion growing in them.

“Something’s off,” Dean said as they entered the bedroom.

Sam peeked into his bag and threw a few things out from it: a sweater, a rotting apple and a few books. “Yeah, he didn’t get mad,” he said and frowned. “Another school!” he exploded suddenly. “I hate to be the new kid over and over again!”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “It’s not really about being ‘the new kid’, is it?”

Sam shrugged, pursing his lips sulkily.

“Sammy, I’ll see you when you get back. You can be without me for a while, can’t you?”

Sam turned to Dean, the tears of helpless anger glistening in his eyes, but he didn’t allow them to come out. The silent fury was radiating from Sam’s every cell.

Dean winced. Sometimes the ferocity of Sam’s emotions was just too overwhelming even for him. “Sammy…”

A furious growl echoed as Sam shoved his school bag on the bed. “He’s always doing that. He doesn’t want us together. That’s why I have to go to school and you don’t.”

“Don’t say stupid things. Of course I’m going to school…” Dean started, but Sam’s glower silenced him immediately.

“So why aren’t you going with me?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Suddenly all Sam’s fighting spirit was gone and Dean became a witness of a silent despair. Sam’s shoulders slumped, his head hung, and the tears slowly came out. “It hurts. I want it to stop. I want Dad to stop it…” He raised his head to look at Dean.

There was no one in the entire world that could look at Dean the way Sam did. When Sam looked at Dean, everything ceased to exist. Dean always felt naked to the core when Sam’s eyes met his, he always felt like Sam could see right into the deepest corners of his heart. When Sam looked at Dean, happy or sad, everything became meaningless. It was just the two of them, the desire to stand still and keep staring into the depth of the hazel-green eyes, open, warm… captivating. And Dean didn’t need to look carefully to see himself in them, the image too perfect, more perfect than he could ever be, so beautiful and glowing… the definition of Sam’s world.

And Sam’s world was colliding with the real one every day, causing him pain and suffering. It was frightening how well Dean could understand that anguished expression, that tension in the little frame that was breaking under the pressure of expanding love and passion. Dean wondered how much of it Sam could hold. Sometimes he dreamt about reaching out and hiding Sam in his embrace, helping him carry that sweet burden, sharing the weight of it with him. But then Sam was out of his sight, out of his reach, and Dean felt strangely empty.

Yes, he hated being away from Sam for too long as well. Hated it more than he would ever have admitted to anyone.

“Sammy, I promise that when you come back from school, I’ll be here, waiting for you. Is that enough?” It had to be enough…

Sam sniffed and wiped his nose into the sleeve of his shirt. He gave a slight nod. “You promise?” he said shakily, asking for assurance.

Dean gave him a weak smile. “Promise. Now go and wash your face. You look awful.”

Sam smiled, too. “You’re a jerk,” he said as he walked past Dean out of the room.

“And you’re a little bitch.”

Dad was already nervous when they came downstairs.

“What took you so long?” he asked, but didn’t wait for the answer as he pushed Sam out of the door. Bobby was already sitting in his old car and waiting. Sam threw his bag in the seat and got in.

As John closed the door behind him, Sam looked back toward the house. Dean was standing there in the doorway, a small smile on his lips. Sam smiled, too, thinking of Dean’s promise. Dean would never have made a promise he couldn’t keep, would he? Dean’s promise was a sure thing, a certainty in the uncertain world, the light in the dark. Sam had no reason to doubt it.

Bobby started and the car moved. Dean raised his hand in a parting gesture and Sam did the same… They would see each other later. Although it didn’t mean it would be easy. It was never easy being away from Dean, no matter what others thought or said. They knew nothing…

John stood in the doorway behind Dean, watching the car leaving until it was out of sight. He allowed himself one more intake of breath until he said in a calm but resolute tone, “Go pack your things, son, we’re leaving. Pack everything, I don’t know when we’ll come back. I guess it’ll take some time.”

As expected, Dean turned to him with horrorstruck face. “What?”

“You heard. Go pack. I expect you by the car in ten minutes.” He didn’t look at Dean as he said it, and when the words were out, he simply turned away. He wanted to pretend he didn’t see that panic in the green eyes or heard that alarmed voice.

“But… Dad!”

“This discussion is over, Dean. Go,” John said, giving room for no compromise.

“Dad!” Dean didn’t want to give up so easily. “We can’t leave Sammy…” his voice trailed as the realization hit him. “DAD!”

John glared. “Stop shouting like a hysteric girl! You do as I say and I don’t want to hear any protest from you anymore. You pack your stuff now and get your butt into the car in no more than ten minutes. If you don’t, I’ll come to get you myself and that won’t be nice, I can promise you that.”

Dean’s heart was beating like it attended the championship in athletics and he had no words to say anymore. The only thing he could think of was _I promised, I promised, I promised_ over and over again. His eyes filled with hot, burning tears, but he didn’t want Dad to see them, to think he was weak and unworthy, that he was a stupid girl. He turned around and headed for the stairs, his legs feeling like jelly.

He didn’t want to go. Oh, how much he DIDN’T! It was so unfair…

He wanted to leave Sam a note with an explanation. He wanted to let him know that he hadn’t planned this, and that he had had no idea what Dad had been up to, that he had believed his promise, he really had wanted to keep it... When he got to actual writing finally with the time running out, his thoughts and feelings constricted into one simple sentence: _I’m sorry_.

He left the note on Sam’s pillow where the little brother could find it easily and then hurried downstairs, not wanting to be late (because he knew that Dad kept his promises no matter what, even though he made others break theirs…).

“Dean,” Pamela’s soft voice reached his ears.

“I can’t be late,” he muttered, ready to walk past her without even looking at her. He didn’t want her to see how miserable he felt. He didn’t need that.

“You’re leaving here, but you’re not leaving Sam unless you believe it,” she said mysteriously.

Dean chanced to lift his head and looked her in the eyes, trying to read the meaning of her words. They didn’t give him any sense. “What?” Why did adults always need to speak in riddles?

“You don’t want to leave Sam behind, do you?”

“No.”

“Then don’t do it.”

Dean’s eyes were big and round and confused. Was Pamela crazy? “I have to go,” he reminded her.

“Of course you do.” She bent a little bit lower so that she was in his eyelevel. “I mean your heart. It doesn’t matter where you are if your heart stays with him.”

Dean frowned. “If it’s some kind of metaphor for love, then you have nothing to be worried about, lady. I don’t know what kind of thing is between you two, but you seem to understand each other pretty well. If you want to tell him that ‘my heart is with him’, go ahead. But I think he’ll be quite satisfied if you just tell him that I love him.”

Then he shrugged and hurried away, not noticing the slight twitch of Pamela’s lips in suppressed smile.

He threw his duffel in the backseat of the car and occupied the passenger seat. He didn’t give John a single look, just stared in front of him at the black hood of the Impala sulkily. To his surprise, John didn’t start up, but waited with his hand on the key. Neither of them said a word, neither of them responded to the heavy silence for a while until John spoke in deep, earnest voice.

“Listen up, Dean,” he started, and despite the seriousness in the undertone, he sounded almost kind. “You want Sammy safe, don’t you?”

Dean’s head shot up as he stared at his father. Of course he wanted Sammy safe. Dad should know it better than anyone else. So why was he asking something like that? What was going on?

“Do you remember the soldier from the gas station? How he looked at Sammy as if he wanted to eat him?”

Sure Dean did. He couldn’t forget. “A pervert,” he muttered, gazing out through the windshield this time, unable to figure out what John was trying to tell him.

“Yes…” John said slowly, weighing the word. “Yes, you’re right,” he spoke more resolutely. “There are more like him out in the world. Much more. That’s why I want Sammy to stay here. To be safe. Bobby will take good care of him.”

Dean nodded. So far it made sense. But… “Why don’t we stay here, too?”

“Because there’s job to do,” John said and started the car at last.

Yes, for Dad it was always as simple as that. Dean sighed and leaned back. “Why am I going? I could stay and help Bobby to protect Sammy…”

“You need to go, Dean.” John’s voice was as gentle as the purr of the Impala’s engine as he drove from the salvage yard. “You need to learn to fight…”

Dean raised an eyebrow, giving his father a doubtful glance. “Sammy doesn’t?”

“Sammy’s still too little. Anyway, he has Bobby to teach him whatever he needs to know…”

Dean didn’t say anything to it, he knew it was pointless. Once Dad made a decision, there was nothing to make him change his mind. He closed his eyes and pretended he was sleeping with his head turned toward the window on his side while his thoughts ran toward the boy sitting in the backseat of Bobby’s car on his way to school… and he felt empty. He wasn’t aware of the thin, wet trails stretching down his cheeks, mostly because of the headache growing on its intensity. Neither could he know anything about Sammy going stiff in his seat and staring in front of him wide-eyed, seeing nothing. Dean couldn’t know anything about the lack of oxygen in his brother’s lungs, about the missed beat of his heart, about the cramps in his arms as he hugged himself tightly and trembled, about the choked, broken voice saying, “Dean’s leaving”. 

“What?” Bobby turned around in his seat, wanting to deny it, but he didn’t need more than a glance to know he could fool no one. Sam knew it with a terrifying certainty.

Bobby didn’t even have time to think what to say, how to react, as Sam suddenly doubled over and the sour stench of vomit filled the constricted space of the car.

“Balls!” Bobby stopped the car on the side of the road and shot out from the seat. He pulled the back door open and reached for the boy’s trembling figure. He stood him next to the car, but Sam’s legs gave away under his weight and he collapsed on all fours, his stomach still trying to get rid of breakfast. Bobby crouched next to him, a soothing hand on the boy’s shoulder, but Sam hardly knew what was going on around him. There was a thick fog in his mind, and an icy hand was squeezing his heart, and his whole body was on fire. The painful contractions of his stomach continued even though there was nothing to throw up anymore.

A big hand removed wet strands of hair from his forehead before a palm touched the skin. “God, you’re burning!” He was lifted from the ground and shoved back into the car. The stench made his stomach protest violently over and over.

Bobby stepped on the gas, driving as fast as he could without breaking the speed limit in case there was a police patrol somewhere on the way. He had known that it wouldn’t be easy, but he hadn’t expected such an intense reaction. The only thing he could do now was to get Sam to Pamela, who knew what to do. At least he hoped Pamela would know. Each glance into the rearview mirror at the squirming bundle of pain and misery on his back seat made him long to kill the boy’s father for his fatal ignorance.

The yard in front of the house was empty when he parked there. As if she had anticipated something like this, Pamela came out from the house hurriedly.

“Sam?” she asked with a hint of fear in her voice.

“In the backseat,” Bobby said curtly as he yanked the door open and pulled the trembling, sweating, and slobbering mess of a boy out.

“Oh, my god,” Pamela whispered, horrified, but then she gained her composure back. “Take him to the bathroom. He needs a cool shower.”

“He needs more than that,” the hunter growled.

“Not now, Bobby. You can think of salting John’s ass later, now I need your help.”

There was no strength in Sam even for the slightest protest as he was undressed and put under a cool stream. The fire in his body hissed angrily and ceased in its intensity, but Sam knew it was just waiting until it could burn him alive.

He didn’t care…

Dean was gone.

Sam couldn’t feel his presence anywhere in the house, in the yard… Dean had left despite his promise to be there when Sam returned, despite everything they both believed…

He was dressed in a soft pajama and carried to bed. Despite the haze in front of his eyes, he noticed a piece of paper on the pillow, but Pamela took it away before he was put carefully on the cold sheets. He lay there, motionless (moving had no point anymore), even when covers were pulled over his still shivering body, and stared into the distance.

“Sam,” a soft voice spoke to him, but he didn’t react. It wasn’t the voice he wanted to hear, so why bother?

“I’m so kicking John’s ass for this,” he heard Bobby’s silent but furious growl.

“Sam, listen to me.” It was Pamela again. “Dean had to go. He didn’t know anything about this until it was too late. He didn’t want to leave you.”

Sam closed his eyes and tried not to think about the pain eating his whole body.

“He said he loved you.”

A sweet stab in his heart made Sam gasp for air. He groaned and turned slightly to have a better view at Pamela sitting on the edge of his bed. “Did he?” he rasped.

Pamela smiled sadly and combed the untidy strands of hair out of his eyes. “Yes, he did. It was the last thing he told me before he left.”

Sam’s eyes filled with tears and he sobbed loudly. “I want him back. It hurts…”

“I know,” Pamela said gently. “But now you have to learn to live without him around. But never doubt Dean, okay? He loves you and if he could have stayed, he would have.”

Sam didn’t answer. He curled up in a ball and lay like that with his eyes closed.

Pamela stroked his hair gently and stood up. “Rest,” she said, and then left the room with Bobby.

“Will he be okay?” Bobby asked.

“No,” she said simply, her face ashen white and her eyes without the usual gleam.

“Goddammit! I knew this was going to be rough, but I didn’t expect…”

“Bobby, have you ever heard about a Pair in which the Warrior and the Protector were blood relatives?” she interrupted him.

“No. I don’t remember anything like that,” he admitted.

Pamela nodded and walked downstairs right into the kitchen. She needed a drink. As Bobby joined her, she took out a bottle of whiskey from one of Bobby’s cupboards and poured a generous amount into two glasses. Only after both of them drank a little, she was willing to continue the conversation.

“Normally, Warriors meet their Protectors some time during their child years. Usually they meet at school. And since they were born into different families, they can hardly be together 24/7. So they learn to cope with the time they have to spend separately.”

Bobby just nodded and sipped from his glass again while Pamela took a proper gulp.

“And now imagine you would have known your Protector ever since she had been born and you would have been granted to spend more time together than any other Pair. Imagine your bonding having been completed when others only started to bond…”

Bobby stayed quiet since he didn’t know where she was heading.

“It’s both a gift and a curse…” Pamela said and emptied her glass and refilled it subsequently.

“What do you mean?”

“It is a gift, because the bond becomes tighter, stronger… more developed. The curse because such a separation is taken much worse.” Pamela put the glass to her lips, but then she hesitated. “Dammit!” she cursed and banged the glass on the table so hard that the whiskey splashed over the edge. “This would be hard even for adults, they would just deal with it better. But for kids? With such a bond? It must be a nightmare!”  

Bobby didn’t reply. There was hardly anything to say, anyway. He had never been forced to leave Karen, they had spent as much time together as possible. He had fallen for her, married her… seen her die. That was when the true hell started for him. He didn’t know much about Pamela’s life with her Jesse, she avoided talking about him, but Bobby knew at least that she hadn’t been as blessed as he had been. Jesse had had a girl, so Bobby guessed that Pamela knew something about separation...

She didn’t talk anymore, so he left her alone and went to clean up the mess in the car.

It was almost lunchtime when he returned to the house. The nice smell of food was floating in the air and his mouth watered. However, his enthusiasm didn’t last long. Pamela’s disappointment was literally radiating from her.

“What happened?” he asked, expecting another disaster.

“He doesn’t want to eat,” she said bitterly.

“Sam?”

“No, Santa Claus… Of course, Sam. Who else?” she grunted.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, though he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for.

She nodded absent-mindedly. “I hope that it’s only food he doesn’t want…”

Turned out Sam refused to drink as well, refused to communicate, he refused to move… He was like a rag doll, his eyes glassy and empty, just staring wherever he could stare in the moment.

Bobby was the first one who couldn’t take the sight of his charge anymore.  “This can’t go on. He’s like a sick puppy!”

“He is a sick puppy,” Pamela reminded him as she changed a cold compress on Sam’s burning forehead.

“I’ll kill John… The idjit doesn’t even call and ask about his son…”

What Bobby didn’t know was the fact that John was just putting his older son to bed after Dean had been hugging a toilet for almost an hour. The boy barely ate that day and even the little he forced into his stomach found its way out.

“How’s your headache?”

Dean groaned painfully. “Worse.”

“You’ve thrown up the painkillers. I’ll give you a new dose…”

“I don’t wanna…”

“They’ll help.”

“They don’t.”

Actually, Dean was right. Since he admitted that he had felt like his head had been going to explode, John fed him the pills several times – always with the same result: Dean puked and felt even worse.

“I want Sammy…” Dean sobbed. “Dad, call him, please. I need to talk to him…” He begged maybe for the tenth time that day.

“You need to sleep,” John said gently and left Dean alone in the motel room. Dean was right about one thing – a phone call should be made.

There was a payphone near the motel where they had checked in when it started being obvious that it was impossible to continue in the journey with Dean as sick as he was.

Bobby picked up after the very first ring. “Checking on your son?” he asked angrily after he found out who was the caller.

“How is he?”

“Try to guess,” Bobby snapped. “He’s in bed. He has a high fever and is absolutely indifferent to the world around.” His voice became a tad gentler when he asked, “How’s Dean?”

“He’s fine,” John lied.

“I highly doubt that,” Bobby snorted. “John, please, don’t kill them.”

“I’m trying to save them. They just… need some time… to get used to it…”

“I truly hope that it’s the only thing they need…” Bobby said warily and hung up. He had a kid upstairs that needed to be taken care of…

Another day came and Dean was crying and begging his father to take him back to Sammy. John refused, crammed Dean into the back seat of the Impala and drove away.

In the morning of the third day, Dean threw up in the back seat. He was shivering and his forehead was glistening with sweat, but he looked a little bit better. After they checked into a motel, John made him drink some water. Dean held it in… until he tried to eat. He spent the rest of the day on the floor in the bathroom while John cleaned the car.

In the evening Dean started crying again and asking for Sam. John already knew that Sam’s fever had gotten even higher, he still refused to eat, and had been forced to drink. He had puked afterwards…

About midnight, Dean crawled out of bed and stole a few coins from the pocket of John’s coat. If his senses hadn’t been so weakened with the fever and the headache, he would have noticed that John was watching him from the other bed.

Dean left the motel room to find a payphone. He inserted the coins into the slot with a shaky hand and concentrated on the right numbers. Exhausted, he listened to the never-ending ringing sound on the other side, each ring feeling like a needle into his brain. After a time that appeared like eternity to him, someone picked up the damned phone.

“What?” a grumpy male voice answered.

“I need to talk to Sammy,” Dean said the sentence that became his mantra in the last few days. “Please.”

“Who’s there?” the voice sounded confused.

“Dean. I need to talk to Sammy.”

“Jesus, Dean, I didn’t recognize you. Hold on.”

He waited, not knowing he was watched. He closed his eyes and caught himself on the verge of sleep when Bobby’s voice sounded in his ear again.

“Dean, are you still there?”

“Yeah,” he said weakly.

“Sorry, it took some time to wake your brother up. I’m giving him to you.”

He could hear voices in the background and then there was silence.

“Hello? Sammy?”

A quiet gasp for air and then silence again.

“Sammy! Sammy, it’s me! It’s Dean. Sammy.”

Still no response, but there was a soft sound of someone breathing.

“I’m sorry, Sammy, I’m sorry I left. I didn’t know… I’m so sorry…” Tears were running down his cheeks, hot and unstoppable.

“Dean,” sounded Sam’s soft voice, the sweetest sound to Dean’s ears...

He breathed out, closing his eyes again and listening to his brother’s breathing over the phone.

“I miss you,” Sam spoke again, this time his voice choked and pained.

“Miss you too, little brother,” Dean responded gently, gripping the receiver tightly in his hand. “Listen to me,” he said with more firmness and urgency than it would be expected from someone who had spent the whole day sweating in fever, with a horrible headache and barely able to move. “The first chance I have, I’m going back. I can’t tell you when, it may take a while… it may take longer than a while… but I’ll come. No one can forbid me to see my brother, can they? Not even Dad.”

Sam didn’t answer, but Dean knew that his brother’s heart was hammering in his chest, that his breathing was rapid and that sleep was far, far away and long forgotten.

“Sammy?”

“Yes?”

“Be okay, please. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.” And that sounded like a promise. Dean smiled weakly.

“Good. I have to go now. G’night, little brother. I…” the sharp sound of the engaged tone broke the comfortable silence on the other side of the line. “… love you,” Dean finished with a sigh and hung up. The excitement was leaving him slowly and he felt more tired and sleepier than a while ago. He closed his eyes once more and leaned against the payphone. He’ll rest just for a minute and then he’ll go back to the room.

 


	4. A Deal

 

Dean woke up in bed, feeling miraculously better and awfully hungry, although still a little bit sleepy and weak. The headache was gone, but there was that heavy feeling in his chest that had accompanied him ever since he had been forced to leave his brother behind. The weird thing was that he didn’t remember going back into the motel room last night, but he had been so out of it that everything was possible…

He groaned and sat up slowly, the world swayed slightly in front of his eyes. He heard a rustle of paper and he looked toward where it come from. He saw John sitting at a table, newspaper spread in front of him. He gave Dean a curious look.

“How are you?”

Dean stood up carefully. “Better.”

“Good. I brought you something to eat.” John pushed a paper bag in Dean’s direction.

Dean’s heart made a pleased jump as he walked toward the table. He sat down and reached for the paper bag impatiently… pulling out a burger. He glanced at his father, but John didn’t seem to notice the odd look his son was giving him. Obviously, for John it was totally normal feeding his kid, who almost puked his stomach out the last three days, a greasy burger. Yes, totally normal if you were a Winchester… Dean shrugged indifferently and bit into the tasty thing, grinning slightly.

John didn’t interrupt his little joy until Dean was finished, and only then he folded the newspaper and spoke. “I should punish you for stealing the money.”

Dean froze in his seat, his eyes trained on John, who smiled slightly.

“Don’t worry, I’m not doing it today. But next time…” His expression hardened. “Next time you think before you act.” He stood up, throwing the newspaper into the bin. “Pack, we’re leaving.”

The heaviness in Dean’s chest became more intense.

Sitting in the Impala, he returned to the night phone call in his thoughts. He had made another promise and he meant to keep this one, no matter what. He would go back to Sam. Once he surely would…

It was exactly this new promise that made Sam Winchester feel better and more scared at the same time. He had hope. But he was afraid it could be shattered as quickly and effectively as the last time. He didn’t doubt Dean, of course not. He knew Dean would try even the impossible. It was their father whom Sam didn’t trust, expecting him to spoil Dean’s plans once again. Though, Dean had said it could take some time. A long time. So maybe… Maybe Dean would find the way. And then they would run away together.

He slept almost through the whole day and woke up late in the afternoon. He considered staying in bed and only getting up in the morning, but the hunger that attacked him unexpectedly chased him out of bed.

He slid on the hardwood floor, finding out how much the last few days had weakened him. He whined desperately, but then made his wobbly legs listen to him.

When there was a wall or a piece of furnishing or the railings later on the stairs, he used them for support. Where there was nothing like that by chance, he descended on all fours and crawled. At last he made it into the kitchen successfully. Pamela was there, sitting at the table and reading some book.  As he stopped in the doorway, she looked up from the book and a broad, relieved smile brightened her face.

“Hey there. What brings you here? Hunger or thirst?” she asked, closing the book and standing up.

Only now did Sam realize that he was not just hungry. “Both,” he said, looking around the kitchen longingly.

Pamela’s smile widened even more. “That’s the best answer you could give.”

He didn’t need to ask her for help, she did it as though she could read his mind. Once he was seated, there was a big glass of water put in front of him.

“To the bottom,” Pamela said with a smile.

He grinned back at her before he reached for the glass and started drinking in big gulps.

“Hey! Slowly,” Pamela warned him, but he didn’t care much. He was thirsty, so?

He put the glass back on the table, giving Pamela an innocent smile.

“Now food?”

He nodded.

“Fine. I’ll make you something light. Then you’ll go back to bed.”

Sam yawned and grinned sleepily.

“Where’s Bobby?” he asked after some time.

“In the garage, fixing a car.”

“Uhm… Whatchareadin’?”

“Some old legends. You can borrow the book if you want.”

Sam pulled the book to himself and opened it. There were many black and white pictures in it, but it was the very first one that captured his attention. It was the picture of a man turning into a wolf. He had long fangs and pointed ears and animal hands and feet. His eyes weren’t human either, and there was something familiar in them, only Sam had no idea what it was. He liked the man-wolf’s fluffy tail most.

“What is this?” he asked Pamela, pointing at the picture.

“Read the legend and you’ll know,” she said simply.

Sam found the first page and read the title: _The Legend of Protectors._

Pamela closed the book and pushed it aside. “Later. Now eat,” she said as she put a plate with a few cheese sandwiches in front of Sam.

A half-hour later, Sam was sitting in bed in Bobby’s bedroom and reading the first of the old legends. The world that was described in it, the characters that talked to him from the pages, their relationships and their love (because what else could it be?) were something he knew from his own experience, something he lived with his whole life, something that determined him. He found himself in the book…

At night, he dreamed about long fangs and claws, pointed ears and fluffy tail, and a tongue hanging out of his mouth and waving in the wind as he was running fast, running without a pause… running to Dean.

When he came downstairs for breakfast the next morning, he gave Pamela a long, scrutinizing look.

“What?” she asked.

“What are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a dog. What are you?”

She laughed, winking at him. “Guess.”

“I don’t know. A jaguar?”

“Not exactly. I’m a mountain lion,” she said smugly.

Sam smirked. “Still a kitty.”

Pamela glared. “Say it again and I’ll smack you with a spoon.” She turned around. “Smartass puppy…” she muttered, irritated. That only earned her an amused chuckle from Sam. “You know what? Just eat your breakfast and go back to bed,” she huffed, and when she glanced at him, he gave her his best puppy look. Pamela rolled her eyes and shook her head before she passed him his breakfast.

The days to come weren’t much of a victory. Although Sam wasn’t puking his guts out anymore, he was still tired and sleepy and his body temperature refused to decrease. Sometimes, things became rough. The feelings of loss and loneliness were too much to bear, and Sam spent hours crying into his pillow. Then, there were better days when he was reading the book Pamela gave him, looking for parallels in Dean’s and his lives.

When days were good, he indulged in the sweetness of the memory of long summer days full of games and playful fights, of arguments that ended as fast as they started, of books and the hunger for knowledge, for hot nights when cuddling to a warm body was a torture, but it was physically impossible not to do it.

Sam waited. He was patient. He could wait days, weeks, months, years, centuries… Dean gave him the reason to not fall into darkness but to carry on. Pamela gave him a goal. The more Sam learned about the Protectors from the old legends, the more he yearned to be like them: fast, strong, fearless, invincible... For the one who was everything to him…

When he heard Bobby talking to someone on the phone, he pricked up his ears and listened intently to the pieces of the conversation. If it was Dad on the other side of the line, Bobby usually turned up in the room, always saying the same, “Your Dad says hi. He and Dean are okay.” If Sam tried to ask for more, the answer was, “I know nothing more,” so he gave up.

Dean didn’t call. Not once since that one time. Sam suspected their father of preventing him from doing it again.

He suspected right.

Dean tried several times to ask Dad either for money for a phone call or to be allowed to talk to Sam when Dad was calling Bobby. Not once was his request heard. In the end, he lost his patience and he saved the money Dad had given him to buy lunch. He used the chance on his way from school back to the motel room while Dad wasn’t around, found a payphone and called Bobby’s house.

“Hey, Bobby,” he said sheepishly when the hunter picked up. “Is Sammy there?”

“Dean!” And then, “Does your dad know you’re calling?”

Dean stayed silent.

“I could’ve known… The idjit…” Bobby sighed. “Yeah, Sam’s in bed. It was one of the rougher days today. Last time I checked he was sleeping, but I’ll wake him up. He’d be upset if I let him miss this call. He’s been waiting for it for ages…”

Dean’s heart skipped a beat as he heard what Bobby was saying, and then started hammering like crazy. Blood was rushing through his veins and roaring in his ears. “What’s up with him?” he asked, breathless.

There was a surprised pause before Bobby spoke again. “Don’t you know?” he asked carefully, but then he answered his own question. “Of course, you don’t… Look, when you left, it hit Sam quite hard. I thought you caught that the last time, but you were pretty smashed yourself to notice, right?”

“Kind of,” Dean admitted hesitantly.

“I only want to know one thing and I want you to answer it truthfully. How are you doing, Dean?”

Dean bit his lip, thinking for a moment. “Not bad. Not perfect, but…”

“Dean. The truth.”

“I was better,” he snapped. “May I talk to Sammy now?”

“Sure,” Bobby didn’t sound offended at all.

There was a short pause during which Dean heard Bobby’s voice, “It’s for you.” The soft rustle of sheets told Dean that Bobby must have gone upstairs while talking to him.

“Dean?” Sam’s excited voice sounded in the receiver.

Dean couldn’t help the smile spreading across his lips. “Hey, Sammy! How you doing?”

“Fine.”

“Liar. Bobby told me. What’s up? Dad doesn’t tell me anything and I know he calls...”

“I’m just a little bit sick,” Sam said, and Dean could hear a pout in his voice. He almost laughed. “I’ll be okay soon.”

“Better be,” he said lightly. “Or I’ll kick your ass.”

“I’ll kick yours.”

“Keep dreaming,” Dean laughed. He felt light-hearted – something he hadn’t experienced for a long time.

“Dean?”

“Hm?”

“What do you and Dad do? Why did I have to stay here? Why couldn’t you stay with me?”

The smile on Dean’s lips froze. “Dad… He said it’s dangerous… That you could get hurt easily.”

“Why did he take you, then?”

“Because I’m older… And more experienced...”

“Bullshit.”

Dean chuckled. “Watch your mouth, baby.”

“I’m not a baby! Jerk…”

“Bitch.”

Dean didn’t hear Sam’s response anymore, there was only the engaged tone. He was mad at Bobby for his interrogation and the short time Dean could talk to his brother after that. Next time he’d save more money for the phone call and tell Bobby to shut up and give him Sammy.

After the call, Sam felt better again. He had no fever and he wasn’t so tired anymore. His interest in the world around was still poor, but it was understandable. He still spent a lot of time in bed with the book Pamela had given him, going through the pages, reading carefully, thinking, studying…

The day he finished the last page, he went to seek Pamela. He found her in the living room, studying some huge, old books. He put the book with the legends on Bobby’s desk right in front of her to catch her full attention.

“How can I protect Dean if I’m not with him?”

Pamela straightened up, the corners of her mouth twitching, but when she spoke, her voice sounded serious. “You’re asking how you can graduate when you’ve just started school.”

“I haven’t. I’m in the third grade,” he said with a pout.

“Maybe,” she said in the same tone. “But you still know too little.” She took the book and handed it back to Sam. “Do you want to become a good Protector?”

Sam took the book confusedly, nodding.

“Then you have a lot to learn. Being a Protector is not about using your fists. It’s about having your Warrior’s back in every possible way and all the time, night and day, in good and bad, no breaks or holidays. It’s about giving him everything you have, everything you are, to keep him alive and as happy as you can. It means you have to train your body and mind to be able to take over this task. I won’t lie to you, it’s hard. Harder than you may think. Even harder when you don’t have your Warrior around and you have to deal with the separation. But you can do it. You can be everything Dean needs you to be. You’re already walking that path…”

Sam blinked, puzzled. He had no idea what Pamela was talking about, what was so hard about wanting to do anything for someone like Dean. For Sam, it was the most natural thing in the world. And therefore the easiest. He was Dean’s, he never doubted that, never tried to look at it in a different way. Things were simple, not hard.

He looked at her doubtfully, unable to see what she wanted him to understand.

“Um… training?” he asked about the only thing that made sense to him. “Do I need to train shooting again? And fighting? Hiking? Tracking?” He crinkled his nose in displeasure.

“I’m afraid you do,” Pamela said matter-of-factly. “It’s for a good reason. Dean will need you to know all those things.”

“Oh… Okay.” If it’s for Dean, then it couldn’t be helped, right?

Pamela raised an eyebrow. “Come on, there’s surely something you like about the training, isn’t there?”

Sam shrugged indifferently. “Tracking.” Then he grinned. “Dean.”

“Yeah, high goals…” Pamela muttered under her breath, but she smiled. “You’re good at it, aren’t you?”

Sam smiled smugly.

“Fine, when you get better, we can start with that.” That was a promise of a near future. Sam didn’t mind it, maybe he even looked forward to it. It was for Dean after all. If the training was necessary to ‘become what Dean needed him to be’, then Sam was more than willing to take that step.

“First the book, now this? You’re dead when John finds out,” Bobby said from the doorway as Sam disappeared upstairs.

“I don’t see him anywhere around,” Pamela said indifferently.

“You think it’ll stay secret for long?”

“No, but I don’t care. John wants his kids to live, but the way he tries to protect them will bring them only pain and death. And that would be a shame, don’t you think?” she glanced at the hunter, a small smile forming on her lips.

“Unfortunately, I must agree,” Bobby sighed. “He’s such an asshead. His stubbornness will kill him and everyone he loves and cares about one day…”

“Rings a bell,” Pamela said sarcastically, but when she spoke again, her tone was dead serious. “Look, Bobby, I’m not going to let the idiot waste their precious lives.”

Bobby smirked. “You like them.”

“Maybe. Will you help me?”

Bobby shrugged in defeat. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“You can try to stop me.”

“Right…”

Pamela smirked, knowing that she achieved exactly what she wanted. She had an ally. “Sam is hungry for knowledge. And he understands quickly. Now, when he knows who he is, we can give him what he needs…” Her voice trailed off.

“Most of all, he needs Dean,” Bobby said, thinking about salting John’s ass.

Pamela smiled. “That too. I meant guidance.” As she said that, darkness flashed in her eyes and she left the room wordlessly.

Bobby looked after her as the realization dawned on him. He noticed the shadow of Jesse, unclear and receding, but never disappearing completely and brining the same agonizing pain with the silent question _Who am I without you?_ Clearly, Pamela was looking for the answer in the little, clueless Protector, in his eagerness, efforts and beliefs.

Sam’s condition got slightly better in the days to come. He had a goal now and he concentrated all his efforts on becoming the Protector worthy of Dean as his Warrior. He dreamed about him and Dean together again, an invincible team, an inseparable Pair. Watching him being this impatient and hungry for knowledge, eager to train (whatever it meant), Bobby and Pamela agreed that it was time for Sam to finally go to school.

He built a reputation of a smart kid causing no troubles very quickly. Everyone wondered only what the cause of the sad puppy look could be…

Sam missed his brother’s presence.

Just like Dean missed the little stalker in each school John put him in while he was hunting evil. He missed Sam’s warmth in bed, the faint smell of sleep captured in the little brother’s skin in the morning. He missed his smartass comments and the adoring look of his eyes as deep and clear as the ocean during sunny days, he missed the adorable crease of Sammy’s nose when there was something he didn’t like or the dimples framing his wide smile when he was happy.

Dean saved some money, skipping lunch twice in a row, and called Bobby one afternoon. But Sammy wasn’t there. Sammy was at school. He didn’t get a chance to repeat this attempt at a more reasonable hour as John was always around. Dean tried to persuade him to allow him a call, but John stayed deaf to Dean’s pleas.

Until Christmas came and he gave Dean some change for the call he craved so much. Standing close, he listened to Dean’s side of the conversation while Dean’s heart almost couldn’t bear the happiness when Sam’s voice sounded in the receiver.

The call was short, and when Sammy’s “I miss you here, Dean” sounded in Dean’s ear, he didn’t know whether to feel grateful or angry for the engaged tone signalizing the time was up.

That night was a nightmare. Unable to fall asleep, tortured by the agonizing pain of the separation, Dean cried secretly into his pillow and sleep took mercy on him only when the first rays of the sun touched the horizon.

Miles and miles away, Sam kept waking up every now and then, sweaty and terrified, screaming Dean’s name into the darkness.

The winter break was over and January was slowly going by. Dean turned thirteen in the silence of a snowy day somewhere in Montana. His plea for a call to Sam as a birthday present was ignored. Instead, he got a hunting knife.

February went by and March came. Dean managed to make a few secret phone calls to Bobby’s. He hated Bobby’s questions about how he was doing, but he figured that if he answered them truthfully immediately, Bobby wouldn’t try to take more from the little time Dean had for the call.

“Today I feel like crap, had nightmares the whole night, can’t breathe properly now. Can I speak with Sammy?” he would say in one breath when there were worse days. “Today was good. Still hurts like a bitch. Give me Sammy,” was what he usually said when it was a better day. Next thing he heard was Sam’s voice – when it was a bad day, sounding tired and pained, when it was a better day, sounding eager and excited.

April was hard. Dad’s training was much harder than usual, leaving Dean sore and exhausted at the end of a day.

The beginning of May was sunny and warm. John turned the volume of the radio down, not wanting to wake up his oldest, who was sleeping in the passenger seat after a particularly hard training the previous day. For once, he slept peacefully, probably feeling that he was closer to his brother than any time during the last few months.

John knew about Dean’s suffering. Knew also about Sammy’s from the frequent calls to Bobby about which Dean had no clue. The bond between the boys seemed tighter than John had thought, and he had no idea what to do now. No matter how far he took Dean, the pull between them was still strong and painful. John admitted to himself that he didn’t want to tear the bond – that would be bloody and would surely kill his kids, but he still wanted to weaken it, to make it less torturing, less of a burden than it was…

It just seemed the boys had reached their limits. John hoped that if they had a chance to be together for a little while, they would take a new breath and would be able to deal with a new separation a tad better. It was worth a try, though he had no idea what it would cause in the end. What the cost would be…

Dean sighed and took a deep breath. His first in a very long time. John noticed Dean often gasping for air lately, but the little hero tried to hide it every time it happened. And if Dean didn’t want John to see, John pretended he wasn’t looking. Anyway, Dean needed to deal with such things to become strong. To survive.

But what if Dean started suffocating? John didn’t want to cross that line. No living creature could survive without oxygen, even if they could hold their breath for a long time.

Dean breathed out softly, a slight smile settling on his lips – also something John hadn’t seen for a very long time, and when he had, it had never belonged to him. There was a wide abyss between John and his sons, separating them even more every day. He hadn’t talked to Sam since he had left him with Bobby. And Dean… Dean learned to hide things, to be quiet or lie, whatever served him better. _I should be proud of him, he does exactly what I wanted him to do…_ He just hadn’t counted on the possibility that Dean would use this skill primarily against him.

Dean fidgeted in his seat and opened his eyes still clouded with recent sleep. He looked out of the window at the familiar land.

“Where are we?” he asked, his voice a little raspy.

“Can’t you tell?” John said mildly, giving his son a slight smile.

Dean stared at the land behind the window again, at the town they were approaching… “Dad! We’re… aren’t we?”

Their eyes met for a moment, Dean’s clear and open, all his feelings suddenly out on a plate for John to read them. His chest was heaving rapidly and John was sure that if there hadn’t been the loud rambling of the engine of the Impala, he could have heard the crazy beating of Dean’s heart.

He nodded. “Yes, we are.”

Dean smiled, his eyes fixed on the horizon. There, behind the town of Sioux Falls, was Bobby Singer’s salvage yard where the youngest Winchester was bending over a notebook, doing his homework, when he suddenly dropped the pen and stared at nothing.

“Sam?” Pamela addressed him, watching him closely.

It seemed her voice woke him up from some kind of a trance. He glanced at her before he jumped from his chair and ran to the door, pulling it wide open. There he stopped, scanning the surroundings with the trained eye of a tracker, looking for a sign that would tell him what that sudden restlessness meant. He sniffed the air, and even though the smells that the slight spring breeze brought to him were the same as always, there was something about them, something he couldn’t put his finger on.

And then he heard it, a quiet purr of an engine, still too far for a common human ear to catch it however sharp it would be, and he recognized it.

“Dean,” he breathed out.

He knew it. He could feel it in his whole body, all that restlessness, excitement and joy… His every cell was screaming, _Dean! Dean is coming!_

He wanted to go, to run, feeling that pull, the gravity, hearing the calling of his soul, _Dean! Dean!_

He took a deep breath, smelling dust and rust and oil and the freshness of spring, the sun and the humidity in the air that warned about tomorrow’s rain, and the breeze was caressing his face as gently as always, but there was a strange vibration in that touch, anticipation… certainty.

“Sam,” Pamela’s quiet voice reached his ears, but it was distant, unclear. Unimportant.

“What’s up?” Sam could smell the car oil Bobby had just wiped from his hands with a dirty cloth.

Silence followed, but Sam knew the adults understood. Knew they were not going to stop him. And so he ran.

The gate of the salvage yard was the border he was not allowed to cross, so he stood there and waited – he was good at waiting, he had been trained in this discipline his entire life – eyes fixed on the road. He could recognize the familiar black hood coming nearer and nearer…

Sam held his breath, standing motionless like a statue. To anyone who watched him he may have appeared frozen in time. But contrary to the calmness outside, there was a storm raging in his inner world, and the closer the car was, the stronger the storm became.

The Impala was close enough for him to recognize the people occupying the front seats.

“Did you know about this?” his keen ears caught Pamela’s question.

“The idjit did mention something about coming, but he never said when and why.”

 _When_ was now. And _why_ didn’t interest Sam as long as it meant Dean was there, back with his brother again.

The Impala was close, and Sam could feel Dean’s stare on himself turning the smoldering flame in Sam’s body into a true fire.

The car passed him. Dean didn’t stop staring, his lips moving in a single, soundless word _Sammy._ And still, Sam could hear it clearly – he would have heard that calling however mute it would have been. Always. And forever.

He moved, his movements slow and languid at first as if his body suffered some kind of paralysis caused by the emotion overload.

The car stopped and the doors on both sides opened. Sam jerked forward, fighting the dizziness that wanted to take over him. He forced his body into action. _Dean!_ And his body finally recovered and followed the wish, the longing, and Sam ran back from the gate, ran right into Dean’s arms.

He almost knocked Dean off of his feet, but the older boy managed to keep his balance somehow, arms tight around his little brother.

“Hey,” Dean’s soft, gentle voice was like a balm for Sam’s hurt soul, like a medicine, like a charm. Nose buried in Dean’s chest, he took a deep breath of the sweetest fragrance in his small universe.

It took him a while until he lifted his head slowly and rested his chin against his brother’s sternum. A wide smile split Dean’s face and Sam couldn’t help himself but grin back. Neither of them moved, there was a certain comfort in the touch of their bodies… and also something more. Sam could feel the flow of warm energy filling the gap that had been there ever since Dean had been taken away from him.

Now they were together again, bathing in each other’s happiness. Dean pressed his forehead against Sam’s, his hand on Sam’s back giving the younger boy a small caress before it buried in his hair and pulled.

“Ow!” Sam whined, but didn’t pull away, his arms still wound around Dean’s torso.

Dean chuckled. “Aren’t you taller?”

Sam snorted, hiding his face in the embrace. “Jerk,” he muttered.

Dean’s chest shook with stifled laughter. “You know I can hear you.”  He tousled Sam’s hair. “Bitch,” he whispered with emotion seeping from his voice.

“Dean! Stop messing around and take your things,” John called from the back side of the car as he fished his duffel from the trunk.

Unwillingly, Dean untangled from Sam’s embrace. Their eyes met, a new smile forming on Dean’s lips. He winked at Sam. “Later.” With that he hurried to Dad to gather his things.

Only with Dean a few steps away and Dad to be blamed for it, did Sam pay attention to the world around again. He couldn’t see Pamela anywhere and Bobby’s expression was as sour as long forgotten milk.

John and Dean headed into the house and Sam hurried after them, trying to keep distance from John but to be as close to Dean as possible at the same time. They met Pamela in the kitchen. Her gaze was hard and disapproving, but also curious. Sam noticed a tug of a smile in the corners of her lips as she noticed him practically hanging from Dean’s jacket, but then her eyes slid to John and the hardness was back.

“I need a drink,” she muttered, but before she went for Bobby’s “secret” supplies, she glanced at the table where Sam’s textbooks and notebooks still lay. “Put it away, Sam.”

There was more in her words than a simple request to clear the table. Wordless, he started gathering his things.

“I’ll help you,” Dean said, taking two or three of Sam’s books and lead the way out of the kitchen where the atmosphere was so tense.

Sam hurried after his brother, who was already climbing the stairs.

“Which room?” Dean asked as they reached the upper floor.

“Bobby’s. Wait.”

Sam walked past Dean and opened the door for him since Dean’s hands were full of his things and Sam’s textbooks.

They entered and, as Sam closed the door behind them, they both gave a sigh of relief.

Dean threw the books on the bed and dropped his duffel on the floor beside one of the bedside tables. “So… how are you doing?” he asked, looking a little bit nervous.

Sam put the rest of his school things on the other bedside table. “Fine,” he said shortly and climbed on the bed, watching Dean. “You?”

Dean bit his lip, looking hesitant, but then he sat down on the bed himself. “Good, everything’s okay…”

Sam huffed. “Liar.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “What do you know about it, Sherlock?”

Sam snorted, shifting closer, a hand touching Dean’s. ”A lot,” he said quietly, his eyes locked with Dean’s.

Dean held his breath for a moment; he had already forgotten how intense Sam’s stares could be.

Sam sighed and before Dean realized what was happening, his brother pushed under his arm, cuddling to him like an oversized puppy, his arms folded around Dean and his nose pressed to Dean’s neck.

“You didn’t change a bit,” Dean commented, pressing Sam closer and rolled them both on the bed. Sam gasped with surprise, then giggled and settled more comfortably against Dean’s side half-top on him. As he looked at his brother, his eyes were bright and shining like they used to when he was truly happy. Dean couldn’t resist that look, feeling nice and warm and finally _at home._ All the awkwardness was gone and again they were the boys from before they had been separated. Sam smiled; his carefree, innocent smile always touched Dean’s heart, made him forget bad things, made the ice melt away…

“By the way, happy birthday, Sammy,” he said with a grin as he ran his fingers through Sam’s untidy mane.

“You didn’t forget,” Sam said, his smile wide and infectious.

“How could I forget the day my pain in the ass little brother turned nine, huh?” Dean chuckled, but then got serious. “I didn’t know we were coming so I don’t have any present for you.”

“Nah, I don’t need anything.” Sam put his head on Dean’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. He loved listening to that steady, rhythmic sound, always calming, always telling so much. Sam listened carefully and heard a storm, but with every breath, with every heave of Dean’s chest, it was losing its intensity.

Biting his lip, Sam closed his eyes, Dean’s emotions messing with his head effectively. With effort he held back a whine, but things were slowly getting better. Dean’s breathing was peaceful and the first rays of his inner sun were strong enough to warm Sam up as well.

Dean sighed contentedly, giving Sam’s hair the second tug that day. Sam’s only response was a quiet growl.

“Hey, were you doing your homework when we came?” Dean asked

“Yep. Why?”

“Did you finish it?”

“Nope.”

“Shouldn’t you do that? I’ll help you. Then we can play or something…”

“Help?” Sam giggled. “Let’s play now. I’ll do the homework later.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow?”

Dean raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “When?” he repeated the question.

“At school, during a break?” Sam offered innocently.

Dean laughed. “When did you become this irresponsible? Not that I don’t like it… But it’s not how I know you.”

Sam shrugged, cuddling to Dean’s chest, fingers digging into the older boy’s shirt. “I just want to have fun. With you…”

Dean hugged him gently. “Let’s play.”

Meanwhile John reported his observations on the missing Protectors.

“… I encountered some Warriors whose Protectors went missing while they were in their early teens and the bond was still developing. I interrogated many of them, and all of them said, they felt a great pull and pain when it happened. They were sick for many days…” Bobby and Pamela exchanged a meaningful glance here, “… and then suddenly came the feeling of complete emptiness and they started getting better. I worked with one of such Warriors for a while. We tried to find out what was happening with the Protectors while their Warriors were puking their guts out.”

Bobby crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s why you’re here. You want to know what was happening with Sam while you dragged Dean all over the States.”

John’s look was hard and grim when he returned Bobby’s frown. “I wanted to see my son. It’s his birthday today.”

“I haven’t noticed you seeing much of him so far,” Pamela said sarcastically, tightening her grip on a glass with a generous amount of whiskey. “Nor have you said a word to him.”

“He’s with Dean. And this is important.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“Enough,” Bobby mixed into the argument. “The kids are in their own world right now and we have things to discuss. But Pamela’s right, John. Your obsession with the matter may cost you more than the lives of your children.”

John narrowed his eyes angrily. “I’m trying to save their future, don’t you understand?”

“I do, John. But I also want you to be part of it. You’re already losing contact with your youngest and I can’t imagine this is the way you want it.” Bobby’s voice was calm and even, but also firm and determined. “You’re right, what we do here _is_ important. But you don’t need to do it all just by yourself. There are many others who can take over the job while you take care of your kids. While you teach them who they are and everything they need to know to survive in the world outside _together_.”

“I do what I can. No need to get all preachy,” John grumbled.

Pamela stood up from her chair abruptly. “He’s such an idiot,” she grunted as she passed Bobby and marched out from the kitchen.

Still angry, she walked upstairs and neared the door of Bobby’s bedroom. Soft, cheerful chuckles made her stop for a moment and listen to the clueless innocence behind the door. She knew – she remembered from ages ago – the song of the heart that couldn’t be alone, the sweet ache caused by the inability to contain all that love and happiness. She knew the feeling when they poured into the body, filled each cell… And she could see, hear behind that door that even the entire body may not be enough for the essence of a Protector.

 _The_ Protector.

What was so unique about the little boy behind the door? He seemed so normal, so common… and he still loved so fiercely, managed to create a bond so tight.

She opened the door and the chuckles died, two pairs of the eyes the color of gemstones fixed on her. Sam was stretched across Dean’s legs, hands reaching for letters on a scrabble board. Dean was pushing the board away from his brother, but only to the level Sam could pull the letters he was reaching for with the tips of his fingers, his arm wound around Sam’s waist, holding him in place. The look at the childish joy and brotherly love, the wish to give and take what was offered, made Pamela wonder what she would have found out if she only had had the chance to spend more time with Dean, to watch his relationship with Sam. Maybe Dean would have given her the answer Sam couldn’t, maybe he would have told her what was so special about them (except the fact they were blood relatives and Pamela knew that would cause Sam a lot of confusion, self-loathing and doubts about himself later).

She noticed the relief in their faces as they realized who disturbed them; Dean’s arms stayed wound around Sam and Sam pressed closer to Dean.

The look at them only fueled Pamela’s anger with John. _He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t_ want _to understand…_

“Homework done?” she asked the younger boy in a stricter tone than she intended.

“Er… no,” Sam said, a question in his eyes as he spoke. “I’ll do it later. I want to play with Dean now.” She could hear hope in his voice.

“Or you can do it now and play with Dean later.” She was uncompromising, and Sam knew there was no point in trying to persuade her. He looked at Dean apologetically as he scrambled on his knees.

“That’s okay. I’ll help you,” Dean said as he ran his hand down Sam’s back.

Sam knew that with Dean’s help the time he would need for the homework would be doubled, but he only smiled and nodded. Anything he could do with Dean was great. Even homework.

Pamela stayed in the room, keeping an eye on the boys while pretending she was reading. The homework was more about teasing each other than actually doing anything useful. Pamela watched them carefully, noticing how Sam was reaching for Dean every time there was no physical contact between them and how Dean tried to minimize such occasions. There was always a hand on Sam’s shoulder or a leg touching the younger brother’s. If Dean wanted to be extra annoying, he wound his arms around Sam from behind, pushing him to the side of the bed, and rested his chin on Sam’s shoulder, looking into the notebook or a textbook opened in front of Sam and commented on the stuff written there.

“Get off me!” Sam yelled, but all three of them knew he didn’t mean it. Pamela didn’t mix between them as long as Sam didn’t get too distracted, and if they didn’t mind spending much longer time with Sam’s homework than necessary, then so be it. In the end, they stopped fooling around. Bent over the textbooks side by side, pressed to each other, talking about the things Sam needed to know for the classes the next day, they managed to finish the homework.

After dinner, John gave Sam a lock pick for his birthday. Sam didn’t exactly understood what for, but he thanked his father politely – the first thing he told him ever since John and Dean had turned up on Bobby’s threshold – and left it lying on the kitchen table without any interest in it. Later, Pamela brought the lock pick into Bobby’s room where Sam slept, told off the little boy gently and familiarized him with the importance of such a thing. Mentioning the lock pick and Dean in one sentence with a word ‘useful’ between them was good enough a reason for Sam to keep the thing.

It wasn’t even too late when John came into the living room where Dean and Sam were watching some old fairytale playing on Bobby’s ancient video recorder and with a serious expression he said to the bundle of his two sons that it was time for bed.

“Dean and I will sleep here, in the living room, if Bobby is okay with that,” he said, glancing at the old and uncomfortable bed by the window and the couch on the other side of the room. The announcement was directed at Bobby, who followed John into the room, not a question (as it was supposed to look like), but a challenge.

Bobby overlooked the true reason of John’s plan. It wasn’t the bad conscience for the unexpected arrival and the possible discomfort the visit may have caused to their host, but to separate Dean and Sam. Dean’s eyes were wide and pleading, but the boy said nothing. Sam on the other hand clutched Dean’s shirt tighter in his hands, defiance written in his face as he took a deep breath, ready to protest.

Before Sam could say anything and start a heated argument, Bobby stepped in.

“No, Bobby’s not okay with that,” he said firmly, the hard look of his eyes fixed on John. “You wanted to discuss _things_ , and I doubt those things are either for Sam’s or Dean’s ears and there’s no better place for such discussions than this room. This is not just a living room, as you may have noticed, this is also my office and lately my bedroom, too. Anyway, Dean needs a proper sleep in a proper bed. He can sleep either in my room with Sam or in Pamela’s.”

“I warn you, I sleep naked,” Pamela added her two cents from the doorway.

John pressed his lips together angrily. “Dean. Sam. Upstairs,” he forced through gritted teeth, not daring to oppose his host.

The boys didn’t hesitate, hurrying out from the room before Dad could change his mind.

As they lay one beside the other in Bobby’s big bed, heavy silence fell between them. Grim thoughts whirling in their heads, fear and doubts taking over their hearts and crushing them down, they both longed for an encouraging word to start talking, to express their worries, to say what was on their minds. But there was no such word and they had no idea how to start. So they stayed silent, the moment of awkwardness stretching beyond the line of Sam’s patience. He touched Dean’s hand sheepishly, the feeling of confusion and fear doubling, but there was also a great deal of relief. Dean gripped Sam’s hand in his and pulled his brother closer, kissing his brow in the process.

“Good night, Sammy.”

Sam purred softly, cuddling close, his nose buried in Dean’s pyjamas.

The quiet, regular sound of Dean’s breathing finally lulled Sam to sleep.

Next morning they got up together after Pamela came to wake Sam for school. As usual, Bobby was prepared to give him a ride while John was studying some maps in Bobby’s ‘office’.

Sam gave Dean a frightened look before he got into the car. “Will you be here when I come back?”

Dean shrugged, looking almost as miserable as his little brother. “I don’t know,” he said. He didn’t dare promise anything in case he was forced to break his promise again. Doing it once was more than enough.

“Can we go?” Bobby asked from the driver’s seat.

“Wait,” Dean said suddenly, glancing at the house where John was totally occupied with his research. “Maybe I could go with you…” Although it wasn’t asked as a question, it was obvious it was one. Sam’s eyes shone and both he and Dean looked at Bobby with hope.

“What would your Dad say to that?” Bobby asked carefully.

Dean bit his lip, but then he turned to his hopeful brother. “I don’t care,” he said, though his words lacked conviction. “We’ll be back in a while, won’t we?”

“I guess,” Bobby admitted. “All right, son, get in. We’ll deal with your Dad when we get back.”

A wide smile brightened Dean’s face and he got in the backseat next to Sam. Sam locked Dean in a tight hug, burying his face in his brother’s shirt. “Thank you, Dean,” he choked out. “Thank you.”

Dean patted Sam’s back awkwardly. Being hugged like this in the presence of a third person was kind of embarrassing. But whatever. This was Bobby. Bobby didn’t mind. He never did. _Unlike Dad…_

By the time they reached the school gate, Sammy was smiling again, and Dean couldn’t help but return the smile. The world was always brighter with Sam around, fuller, richer…

“I’ll see Sammy to the school. I’ll be right back,” he announced as he opened the door and both boys got out from the car. Dean took Sam’s hand as they were walking toward the school building. Bobby watched them, saw the damage the separation did to them. They were too clingy, absolutely preoccupied with each other. Sam was walking proudly by Dean’s side, throwing adoring looks at his brother every now and then, taking notice to their surroundings only to the level that he didn’t trip over something or barge into somebody, and Dean was hardly any better.

“John, you freaking moron,” Bobby cursed under his breath, gripping the wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white.

At last, Dean let go of Sam’s hand, giving his brother an encouraging smile and watching him until Sam disappeared from his sight in the school building. He didn’t hear the curious question of Sam’s classmates, “Who was that?”, nor did he hear Sammy’s answer full of pride, “That was my brother.” He returned into the car and was grateful that Bobby didn’t try to talk to him, didn’t want to know if Dean was all right. Because Dean wasn’t. He couldn’t be all right as long as he didn’t know if he would see Sam later.

John wasn’t impressed, but he said nothing, having in mind that he owed Bobby for taking care of his youngest. Nevertheless, Bobby’s feeling of superiority evaporated pretty soon as he became a witness of Dean’s training. The boy was only thirteen and shot like a professional, used a knife with the precision of a butcher and fought like a tiger. John made him learn the hard way. Every mistake cost a bruise, every success earned him a second or two to take a breath.

Dean never complained. Didn’t say a word even when he was already short of breath and obviously exhausted, didn’t stop even when his movements became slow and graceless as the result of the ache in strained muscles.

He was a true Warrior – stubborn and relentless.

A soldier.

A killing machine…

“This is all kinds of wrong,” Pamela said quietly from behind Bobby’s back.

“He’s not helpless anymore. He can survive.” Even to his own ears Bobby’s voice sounded strangely impersonal.

“Not if his father succeeds in awakening his bloodlust. He’ll be sharp and merciless, looking for fights and blood. He won’t be a Warrior anymore. He’ll be a Ripper.”

“A what?” Bobby asked with a frown, but Pamela didn’t explain what she meant. She disappeared in the house, minding her own business.

Later in the afternoon John returned to his research and Bobby went to help him; Pamela was God knew where and Dean was out of sight as well (bathroom, as Bobby assumed considering all that sweat and dirt covering his body after the hellish training). Minutes were slowly ticking away and it was time to pick Sam up from school.

“Are you going or is it on me again?” Bobby asked as he closed one of the books he had been studying.

John looked up from the map spread in front of him on Bobby’s big desk. He sighed heavily and Bobby understood.

“Fine, see you in a while.”

“Bobby,” John’s voice stopped him on his way out from the room. “It’s not like that.”

“You don’t need to give me any excuses, John. Give them to your sons.”

Bobby walked out from the house, not knowing if he was more angry or disappointed. But sure as hell he was surprised when he found Dean standing by his car.

“Can I go with you?”

The question was simple, asked by a strong and proud person who would never have admitted any weakness, and there was still enough gentleness in the big, green eyes, looking at Bobby pleadingly.

“Get in, boy,” Bobby said, a little smile forming on his lips.

The drive was filled with comfortable silence. From time to time Bobby chanced a glanced at his young passenger and had to admit Dean didn’t look half as exhausted as he did after the training. He didn’t ask if Dean was okay, he didn’t want that satisfied expression in the boy’s face to disappear.

As soon as he parked close to the school gate, Dean jumped out from the car.

“I’ll wait here,” Bobby called after him. Dean only nodded hastily and hurried to the big entrance into the building. Kids were already pouring out in bigger or smaller groups, but not Sammy. Not yet.

Dean waited, eyes not leaving the big school doors, not seeing anyone to be honest, but then – he felt it. His own heartbeat told him what he wanted to know, his own quick, excited breathing was the proof he wasn’t wrong.

Sam walked out into the light of the sunny day, sniffing the air, watchful eyes scanning the surroundings. He knew as well.

Their eyes met, and Dean felt a grin splitting his face as Sam’s face lit up at the sight of him.

“Hey!”

Sam smiled, running down the stairs toward Dean. “You’re still here!”

“Uhm. Let’s go, Bobby’s waiting.”

Sam was skipping by Dean’s side like a baby goat on their way to the car, chattering cheerfully. Dean was mostly quiet, listening to his kid brother and smiling. Seeing them like this, Bobby realized Dean was a child no more and he cried for such injustice inwardly. No kid deserved to have taken childhood away…

Back in the salvage yard, Sam cast a longing look at the car wrecks. “Bobby, can we…?”

Bobby glanced at the house. He didn’t feel like dealing with John or Pamela right now. “Sure. I have things to do in the garage, anyway.”

Sam gave him a broad, grateful smile before he turned to Dean. “Come on, I’ll show you something,” he said as he grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled him toward the scrap maze. He didn’t bother with dumping his school bag in the house, he simply took it with him.

“Still ‘no going out of sight’ rule?” Dean asked as they passed a few car wrecks.

“Still,” Sam replied shortly, hurrying to a jeep that didn’t look as miserable as most of the cars around. He got in, motioning to Dean to follow him.

Inside, Dean looked around. The old leather covering the seats was in a relatively good state and what was more important, it was clean there. Books were lying in the front seats with a few sheets of paper and color pencils. Dean took one of them, revealing a not very good picture of a dog.

“What is this?” he asked, putting the picture down.

“A German Shepherd,” Sam said, pouting a little.

“No, I mean this place.” Dean looked out from the window, seeing Bobby working in his garage.

Sam smiled wickedly. “My shelter.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “ _Your_ shelter?”

“Now our shelter,” Sam said in a serious tone this time. “I come here when I want to be alone. But there must always be someone outside keeping an eye on me.” He sighed, kicking the boots off his feet and curling up in a ball.

“Do you come here often?” Dean asked slowly.

“Almost every day.”

Dean nodded. He understood. There were days when he wished to be left alone as well. But he could hardly afford such a luxury. Dad didn’t allow that.

“You want us to be alone together.” That wasn’t a question. Every word was an undeniable fact. A revealed secret.

“Dean,” Sam addressed him quietly, shifting closer until his side was touching Dean’s. “We’re older now. Let’s run away.”

Dean eyed his brother carefully. “You didn’t give up on that idea, did you?”

Sam shook his head.

“We can’t, Sammy. We’re still not old enough. We don’t have money and… we don’t know enough.”

Dean watched Sam’s hope dying and the tears collecting in the hazel eyes, but they were not allowed to be shed. Sam pulled away – just a little bit but it still hurt.

“Sammy… Dad brought you here to protect you. You know yourself what’s out there…”

Sam’s head shot up, the angry look in his eyes piercing Dean through and through. “Why doesn’t he want to protect you too?”

“He does. He teaches me a lot,” Dean protested, patience slowly disappearing from his voice as well. “But I still don’t know enough to protect _you_! Don’t you understand?”

“You’re not supposed to protect _me_! I’m supposed to protect _you_!” Sam barked out, glaring at Dean for a moment, but then he turned away, showing Dean his back.

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean asked, reaching for his brother.

Sam shook Dean’s hand away. “Nothing,” he said stubbornly.

“It’s something, so tell me.”

“No, it’s nothing. I need to do my homework.”

“You’re a moron.”

“And you’re a jerk.”

“And you’re a bitch.”

The answer was a dark scowl and a low, menacing growl.

“I don’t need this,” Dean said, opening the door.

That made Sam shut up at once. “S-stay,” he stuttered.

“No more growling?”

“No. Promise.”

“Okay.” Dean closed the door, watching Sam, who looked like a pile of misery. “Sammy?” he spoke to him, and this time his voice was as gentle as usual when he talked to Sam.

Sam raised his head in anticipation.

“Let’s make a deal.”

“What deal?” Dean could hear fear in Sam’s voice.

“When we’re old enough and able to protect ourselves and also I have enough money to take care of you and know how to get more, I’ll come for you. But until then you’re not talking about running away again, okay? _I_ will say when it’s time.”

Sam held his breath, almost toppling into Dean’s lap. “Won’t you forget about it till then?”

Dean frowned. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I do,” Sam said quickly to placate his big brother. “But…”

“But?”

“What if it takes too long?”

“Then it does. You have no choice but to trust me in this. Can you do that?” The tone of Dean’s voice was firm and determined.

“If you promise…” Sam said quietly.

“Jesus Christ, Sammy, I do!” Dean cried, annoyed. “I don’t intend to break this promise.”

Sam wanted to remind him that Dean hadn’t intended to break the last one as well and Dad had still managed to make him, but he kept quiet. It wasn’t fair to say something like that now. Sam had to trust his brother. And he did. Always did. But he didn’t trust their father.

Instead of voicing his doubts, he graced Dean with a broad smile. “Deal,” he said and hugged his brother around his neck.

Dean patted Sam’s back. “Deal, you snuggly puppy.”

Sam purred and chuckled. “Help me with my homework?” he asked, laughing softly.

Dean grinned. “Sure, why not?”

Not getting up from Dean’s lap, Sam reached for his school bag.

 


	5. Protector’s Nature

 

Neither Sam nor Dean knew that it wasn’t only Bobby who could see them in the old jeep. John was just on his way to the garage when he noticed his sons in the car, talking excitedly to each other and frowning – they were arguing about something, but it didn’t take them long before they were smiling again, their bodies looking for contact. They were both breathing freely, the paleness in Dean’s face from the last few months was exchanged by a healthy flush and the dimness in his eyes made place to a new, strong flame. Sam was sprawled in Dean’s lap, eyes bright and shining, his stares too worshipful and smiles too fond – and still they didn’t lack the childish innocence. _Not yet,_ John thought and his heart ached.

He hated himself for what he was doing, for his efforts to keep the boys apart, for trying to weaken their bond. But when he looked at them, especially at Sam, he knew he was doing the right thing. The boys were too obvious, too vulnerable to the world. John didn’t want to think about the cruelty he had seen, the bodies of Protectors ripped apart and the Warriors out of their minds. He didn’t want to think about his boys meeting the same fate.

And then, there was this thing between them, the inevitability in a Protector’s life. God help him, but he was a parent and he had to protect his children even if it was from themselves! Jesus, they were brothers, how could that happen? How could they be a Pair and blood relatives at the same time? How could the animal spirit bastards let that happen? How could they doom one of their own kind to such a miserable life filled with sinful desires? How could they do such a thing _to his son_?

Why didn’t Bobby and Pamela understand?

Bobby, yes, there were things John wanted to tell him. He moved finally, his steps heavy, finding Bobby watching the boys as well.

“Hey, I think I found something,” John said, interrupting the flow of Bobby’s thoughts, whatever they were.

“Yes?” said the hunter and waited for John to tell him about his discovery, but he could barely concentrate. He kept glancing in the direction of the jeep, wondering how needy the boys were for each other.

John was saying something about the essences of Protectors being missing, but Bobby didn’t listen to him much. “How long are you planning to stay here, John?” he asked suddenly.

“What? Why?” John looked at him, puzzled.

“Because if you plan to stay here for some time, shouldn’t Dean go to school?”

John glanced at the two in Sam’s shelter. “We won’t be here that long. There’s this new track I need to follow.”

“John…” Here they were again, talking about the same old thing. But Bobby needed to try, didn’t he? For Dean’s sake. For the sake of both boys. “Why don’t you leave him here as well? Give him back his childhood. I’ll give them both what they need, I’ll even train them, but they both deserve a time to be just kids.”

John set his jaw, gazing at Bobby for a long time. Bobby could see the inner fight, and when he started thinking that his words might have reached the stubborn mule finally, John spat, “No”, killing all of Bobby’s hopes.

John stormed out from the garage, furious at Bobby, at Pamela, at the whole world. He stopped for a moment, looking at the happiness filling the constricted space in the old jeep. “Sammy!” he yelled and saw that both boys stiffened and slowly turned their heads to the window to see what was going on. John waved at them, motioning to Sam to come. The boys exchanged confused looks before they moved.

It appeared to John like eternity until Sam reached him. Dean was keeping his distance as he was coming, too.

“Bring the lock pick. I’ll teach you how to use it,” John said to Sam, trying to keep his voice low and even despite the anger that was still raging inside of him.

Sam glanced at Dean as if he was asking for permission. Dean gave a slight nod, not following Sam upstairs into Bobby’s bedroom.

They were alone, John and Dean, so very familiar a situation and yet so strange. John wished so much to exchange some meaningless words with his oldest – just to make sure that at least Dean was on his side, the same good son, the only family that wasn’t turning away from him. It should be easy; how much time did they spend in the Impala, talking about nothing? And still, words have left John and the only thing he could come up with was just another command, “Go get a padlock from the trunk, Dean.”

Dean took the keys from John and hurried out to do as he was told. Meanwhile Sammy returned with the lock pick.

Seated at the kitchen table, John showed Sam how to pick locks. Dean didn’t join them, but stayed close, watching Sam struggle with the padlock. As Sam repeatedly failed to pick the lock, John started losing his patience, pressing on Sam to try harder. In the end, Sam slammed the padlock on the table furiously, growling that he had homework to do.

“Homework can wait. You’ll sit here until you manage to pick the stupid lock!”

Sam glared. “I can’t do it! I don’t know how!” he yelled.

“If your brother can do it, then you can do it, too!” John yelled back, but when Sam shut up, he continued in a calmer tone. “Look here and listen, I’ll explain it to you once again.”

But it was like talking to a brick wall. Sam’s attention no longer belonged to John, his adoring hazel eyes were fixed on Dean.

“You can do it?” Sam asked with awe.

“Yes,” Dean said carefully, glancing at Dad.

John sighed. “Show him,” he said to Dean, trying to swallow his defeat.

Dean came up to the table and sank in a chair next to Sam. In a calm voice he explained to his brother the mystery of picking locks one more time, demonstrating his words on the poor padlock. When the soft click sounded and the padlock opened, Sam gave Dean a broad smile.

“It’s your turn, midget,” Dean teased.

“I’m not a midget, moron,” Sam snapped, but with no heat in his voice, taking the padlock and the lock pick from his brother.

He didn’t manage to pick the lock, of course. ”What do I do wrong?” he asked unhappily.

“Nothing. You just don’t feel it. Here.” Dean left his chair and stood behind Sam, taking Sam’s hands holding the padlock and the tool into his, leading their movements.

John watched them, the concentration in their faces, he was amazed by Dean’s never-ending patience. _Just like Mary…_

“Can you feel it? The lock, what it’s like and what you need to do?

“Yes,” Sam said and smiled.

“Good. Remember, be gentle. Now relax and concentrate, here comes the trick.” Dean gripped Sam’s hand tighter, twisted their wrists just right for the padlock to give in.

“We did it! It opened!” Sam cried happily.

Dean only smiled. “Now try alone.” He patted Sam’s shoulder before he sat down again.

In the end, it was Dean who taught Sammy to pick locks – John’s oldest son who never lost his patience with his little brother and who Sam always listened to. John wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but he had to admit that Dean spared them a lot of screaming, glaring and arguing.

He left the boys alone and engaged himself in more research. Bobby agreed with him that there was something demonic about the decreasing number of Protectors, but neither of them could come up with a believable theory about how exactly demons fit into the equation.

“We should hunt some of them down and interrogate,” Bobby suggested after long consideration.

John nodded slowly. “We’re leaving in the morning. You coming?”

“I’d love to, but you made me a babysitter. Are you taking Dean with you?”

John thought about it for a while until he spoke. “The more the boy knows the better for him… Hunting can take some time and it’ll be a good training for him.”

“Like father, like son,” Bobby muttered under his breath. “At least I know where Sam’s stubbornness comes from…”

John glanced at Bobby. “Don’t say nonsense. Where’s Pamela?”

“I don’t know. She’s a feline, she comes and goes whenever she pleases,” Bobby replied with a shrug.

To John’s surprise, there was no screaming and protesting when he ordered Dean to pack in the morning. Even though Sam was at Dean’s heels all the time like an obedient dog, he kept silent. Dean didn’t say a word, either.

Their parting was short. Dean smiled sadly and tousled Sam’s hair, Sam hugged him shortly and whispered, “Remember the deal.”

“You too, puppy.”

“Don’t call me puppy.”

Dean chuckled. “You’re not a dog yet.”

Sam shrugged. “I will be.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Dean said with a smile before he pulled away from Sam and got in the car.

Sam watched the Impala vanishing in the distance, and only when the car was long out of his sight, he broke down.

He spent the next week in bed with a high fever and in pain. Fortunately, this time he didn’t feel like throwing his insides out. The thought of the deal with Dean helped him to keep going. Getting used to the emptiness in his heart slowly, he got up from bed at last and fell into the well-known routine of good days and bad days.

With the beginning of the summer break Pamela came up with a training plan. By the time Sam went back to school, he had become an excellent tracker, who didn’t rely only on his sharp senses, but could also read tracks and leads with hardly any mistake.

His days usually started and ended with running (even during rainy days). Sam never complained; he liked running, enjoyed the possibility of being somewhere other than at school or in the salvage yard, loved the illusion of freedom when the wind ruffled his hair and swished around his ears and he pretended that Pamela, who always kept him company to watch out for him, wasn’t there.

Shooting didn’t go as smoothly as the other two activities, but Bobby was a patient teacher and a good one as well and Sam learned to listen to his advice. At the end of the summer, he wasn’t bad at shooting at all. Bobby also tried to teach Sam fighting, but he kind of ended up with tooth prints all over his hands and forearms, which always made Pamela laugh hard.

Another thing that Sam enjoyed was picking locks. Dean had showed him how to do it and Sam wanted to train and make his brother proud of him. There was no lock in the house safe from him; he opened every door, cabinet or drawer that had a lock. He even opened the mysterious door into the basement and revealed secrets that were supposed to stay hidden from him for a few more years at least. Never before had Sam seen Bobby as mad as that day. It was also the first day he was given a punishment. The lock pick was confiscated and Sam could only use Bobby’s room and the kitchen (“Yes, the living room is a restricted area, too, until you learn to not stick your curious nose into other people’s business. No TV, no books from there.”). The privacy of the old jeep was denied to Sam as well, which was the worst of all punishments. Begging and complaining didn’t work and instead of the original three days they earned him a whole week without the access to Bobby’s library or his beloved shelter.

Dean didn’t call the whole summer. Sam suspected he didn’t have it any better, enduring Dad’s training, which was actually true.

The first week after they left the salvage yard Dean was hardly able to crawl out of bed. His muscles were sore and his head felt like dinosaurs played soccer with it. John was nursing his son with the care of a devoted parent, but once Dean could stand on his own feet again, “bad days” became just a meaningless phrase. Gradually, Dean learned to ignore pain and kick and slash and fight like the only thing that caused him discomfort was the existence of an enemy. He became rough and merciless when it came down to monsters.

He exorcised his first demon on the very first day of school. It was after John interrogated (read: tortured) the black-eyed thing chained to a chair in the center of a Devil’s Trap. Dean could hear the screams and curses even in the car parked a few paces away from the abandoned warehouse John used for the “chat”. When he was done, he called Dean inside to finish the job.

Until Christmas the number of the sons of bitches he returned to Hell increased dramatically. After the New Year Dean killed his first werewolf – shot him from a hiding place with a single silver bullet.

Shortly before his fourteenth birthday, Dean Winchester experienced the pain of someone who nearly got their heart ripped out of their chest by a vengeful spirit and was saved by his father just in time as John burned its remains. John didn’t even have time to be pissed at himself for putting his son into mortal danger and almost losing him because the very next day Dean mixed into a hunt and chopped off the head of a vampire while he was supposed to sit tight in the Impala and wait with a machete ready in case of danger. That helped John to redirect his anger with himself at Dean.

“I told you to stay put!” John yelled.

“I was useless there! I wanted to help!” Dean protested.

“You were _safe_! I can’t protect you if you don’t listen to me!”

“I wasn’t in danger. I sneaked on him, he didn’t see me. I was okay, Dad, promise.”

“You want to be useful? Help me to burn the bodies,” John snapped, ending the argument.

Two days later Dean managed to call Bobby’s house secretly.

“Dean, are you okay?” Sam’s worried voice surprised him.

“Sure, Sammy. Nothing unusual.”

“Really?”

“Really. The same boring routine as ever. Why are you asking?”

“It’s… nothing.”

“Sammy, tell me,” Dean demanded.

“I just… I was frightened. Two days ago I had a… uh… what is it called? A panic attack?”

Dean froze. “Why would you have a panic attack?” he asked, swallowing hard.

“ _I don’t know._ I was reading a book when I suddenly couldn’t breathe and the world turned black…” He trailed off. “It’s been gray, the world. Ever since you left,” he added quietly, voicing Dean’s own feelings. “Are you really okay?”

“Yes, Sammy, everything’s all right. The last few days were a little rough, you know, Dad and the training, but I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

“Good.” Despite the word, Sam didn’t sound convinced, although Dean could hear how much he wanted to believe what his big brother fed him with.

“Yeah, good,” Dean said and ended the call.

Winter was over, but the world became darker. It seemed more demons made it out of Hell – more powerful demons. John went back to going for hunts alone, leaving Dean behind in a motel room or with a babysitter, which only made the boy angry. He longed for the danger, for a dose of adrenaline in his veins, for something that needed his full concentration and that way took his mind away from the empty space within him that ached for his little brother. If Dean wasn’t allowed to play his small part in Dad’s hunts any longer, he needed to find something else to distract him. So he started dating again. Boobs and curves of a girl’s body, soft lips and pretty faces were good enough to help his thoughts wander in different directions than the salvage yard.

Unfortunately, one of the directions was a little bit tricky and Dean was still scared to go that way.

Dean knew what dicks were for (except peeing), he kind of figured it out a long time ago and not only thanks to Dad’s poorly hidden porn magazines. The life on the road didn’t hide much of such things from him and it was only natural that a curious boy would do his research. And then, there were the times when he was left alone in a rented motel room, which gave him opportunities to explore his own body.

Embarrassed to his bones and blushing like hell, hidden under the veil of night (and bed covers), he let his hand slide down his body under the waistband of his pajama bottoms. Testing the area sheepishly, he touched himself, the light strokes of his fingers bringing the sweetest of all sensations. It was so freaking good and therefore scary, but it never stopped him from having his hand down his pants again the very next night Dad was gone for a hunt or a drink.

Later, still shy but longing for more nevertheless, he started spending more time in shower. Already knowing how to increase the pleasure, how to achieve the golden finale, he took his time, eyes closed and teeth digging into his lower lip to muffle every possible sound. Warm water was caressing his body, slicking his hand just right, making him feel nice and comfortable.

He let his imagination wander to naked girls from porn magazines, to their perfect bodies, topless fronts and round behinds… To the hazel-green eyes looking at him with all their love and adoration…

Dean shivered and stained his hand, feeling stupid and awkward as the water was washing away the pearly white proof of his stealthy action…

He banned the hazel-green eyes from his fantasies, but they kept popping up in his head, accompanied by a broad smile framed by dimples.

It was so wrong and so good at the same time… Wrong for so many reasons Dean didn’t want to think about, especially not when he was standing under a warm spray of water with his cock in his hand and the waves of pleasure rippling through his body. He would never have admitted it even to himself that it was the very image of the hazel eyes that brought him over the edge and made him breathless. The denial helped him to fend off the feeling of guilt trying to settle in his heart. He could live like that. It was easy and uncomplicated.

The first true freak out came when he woke up with a solid morning wood once after a rather vivid dream about his little brother. About the few innocent and absolutely non-sensual kisses on the mouth Sammy had given Dean from time to time when they were younger. About the plenty of chaste goodnight kisses Dean had placed on Sam’s brow or in his hair before they went to sleep. About the feeling of Sammy’s body against Dean’s, how much he loved cuddling to his big brother, about his happy smile brightening gray days…

_Let’s run away, Dean. Let us be together…_

If only Dad hadn’t been home that morning. Dean thought he’d die of embarrassment…

And now, he was here, fourteen years old, packing for school and wondering if Christy let him touch her breasts today, when John stormed into the room.

“Pack everything, I’m taking you to Bobby.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I said so. Hurry up, we don’t have the whole day.”

Dean did as he was told, feeling the excitement. After almost a year, he would see his brother again. He would breathe freely again. He would fill that emptiness in his heart. There would be no pain and bad days for a while.

He thought of the hazel-green eyes, the smile, the dimples, the brief kisses meaning nothing, not knowing about Sammy’s refusal to go to school and causing Bobby a true headache, everything because he knew his brother was coming and he wanted to wait for his arrival. Only after he was told that Dean probably wouldn’t be there sooner than after a few long hours, did he stop bitching and get into Bobby’s car.

Bobby was right, it took John and Dean several hours to reach the salvage yard. The house was quiet, only Pamela came out from the house, evidently leaving.

“Where’s Bobby?” John asked.

“He’s just gone to pick up Sam from school.”

John looked nervous. “Okay, fine… Would you mind if I leave Dean here? I don’t have time to wait until Bobby returns.”

Pamela shrugged. “I wouldn’t. But he’ll be alone in the house. I have no time to babysit him until Bobby’s back.”

“I’m not a little kid. I’m used to being alone,” Dean said, offended.

Pamela raised an eyebrow at him, but then she turned her attention back to John. “I’ll lock the door, he’ll be all right.”

“Fine, whatever.” John waved his hand and beckoned to Dean to get his stuff and go inside.

Dean was annoyed. He wasn’t a baby, goddammit, he could fight, and he knew how to use a gun or wield a knife or a machete. He wasn’t helpless and he still ended up locked in the house. He snorted disdainfully over the stupidity of the adults and went upstairs to check what had changed in his little brother’s life.

He found out that everything was just the same. Books were piled up on both bedside tables in Bobby’s bedroom, notebooks, pens and pencils scattered on one side of the double bed, a few pieces of clothing hung over a chair in a corner, but otherwise the room was relatively tidy. Dean smiled and came up to the bed. He ran his hand over the bedclothes, imagining Sam huddled among them every night. He lay down, burying his face in the soft pillow, smelling a very faint familiar scent.

God, he wanted Sammy there, longed to hold him in his arms again, breathe his scent, and feel his presence inside… Sam was his oxygen, the source of his strength, the anchor when Dean thought he was falling into a dark abyss... He needed Sam and being away from him was cruel and dangerous, he knew it deep down in his guts (and sometimes even lower).

Stretched out on the bed, eyes closed, it felt only natural to slide his hand to his crotch, to stroke himself through the thick layer of denim, to give in to the pleasure. And why the hell not? He was completely alone and everything around was breathing with Sammy’s presence… It could only be good. Better than in a motel room far away from the source of his longing (Did he really think that?) with the imaginary huge hole in his chest.

Feeling guilty for the thought, but not guilty enough to stop, he dug clean clothes from his duffel he had dropped at the foot of the bed and hurried into the bathroom. He needed to be fast (but that wasn’t such a problem) since he had no idea how much time it could take Bobby to bring Sam back home, but he still believed there was enough time for a quick shower. Yes, that was his excuse in case he didn’t make it out in time – he needed a shower.

He took his clothes off and got into the bathtub. He turned on the water and settled comfortably, closing his eyes and giving in to his fantasies, not trying to control them this time. The hand in his crotch knew what to do, stroking, pulling, rubbing, squeezing, teasing, fondling just like he liked it. Lips slightly parted didn’t try to suffocate the quiet sighs that were coming from his mouth. Listening to them was making the whole action even more exciting…

Dean’s hips buckled up, wanting more of that sensation, more of that heat, of that pleasure-pain. His thighs trembled as the orgasm was quickly building up in his groin. He gave a muffled moan as he climaxed, his back arched and a strong shudder ran through his body. Yes, it was better than any time before; the image of the puppy love reflecting in Sammy’s eyes behind Dean’s eyelids still too clear. He took several deep breaths, the feeling of guilt hitting him hard – he used his kid brother as a side dish. How could he?

He showered hastily, washing away the obvious signs of his sin, but the water couldn’t take away his guilt… Dean was suddenly afraid of the meeting. How could he even look into Sammy’s eyes now, after what he did?

He was just putting on the clean clothes when he heard the slam of the front door and a clear voice calling him, “Dean!”

He pulled on the T-shirt and hurried out from the bathroom.

“Dean!”

“Upstairs!” he called and ran down the stairs, meeting Sam half-way. The broad grin in his brother’s face couldn’t leave him cold. Dean grinned back, locking Sam in his arms.

“Hey, midget,” he teased.

“I’m not a midget. It’s you, standing on an upper stair, jerk.”

“Aw, as cute as ever, my little bitchy brother,” Dean laughed, but Sam took no notice of the implication. His nose was buried in Dean’s T-shirt, moving slowly lower…

“Jesus, Dean, you smell beautifully!”

Dean stiffened and reached for his brother, whose nose was already digging into Dean’s belly and continued lower. He grabbed Sam’s arms, pulling him up and holding in a safe distance. “What the hell are you doing?” he hissed.

“I don’t know, but… Dean, Dean…” Sam squirmed. “What is that? Why do you smell so nice?”

Dean blushed. _Oh, fuck…_ “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He looked over Sam’s shoulder. “Hey, Bobby.”

“I was already afraid I became invisible. Nice to see you here, son,” the hunter said, but his voice was tight and controlled.

“What happened?” Dean asked before he even thought about it.

Bobby crossed his arms on his chest. “Ask your brother.”

“Sammy?” Dean was still holding Sam, so there was no way for him to run away and hide. He cast his look down.

“I ran from school,” he muttered.

“What? Why did you do that?” Dean cried incredulously.

“I knew you came. I wanted to go home… to be with you…” Sam whispered, his voice turning quieter and quieter with each word.

“Dammit, Sammy, you can’t run from school,” Dean said with a sigh. “You knew Bobby was coming for you and we were going to meet.”

Sam shrugged, saying nothing, looking at his feet like they were the most interesting thing in the world right now.

“No jeep for three days,” Bobby said firmly.

Sam freed himself from Dean’s grip, turning to the hunter with big, panicked eyes. “Why!?”

“Because you obviously need to be reminded that wandering alone is not allowed! Not to mention skipping a class. Be glad it’s only the jeep.”

“But…”

“It can be a week.”

Sam shut up immediately.

“Fine. Now that we’ve made it clear, you can go play with Dean. Don’t forget to do the homework.” With that Bobby left them alone.

Sam glared after him, but when he turned back to Dean, his forehead was smooth and his eyes shining. There, on the stairs, he cuddled to his brother, his nose close to Dean’s skin to catch more of that heavenly odor.

Sam couldn’t explain it, the scent wasn’t much different from how Dean usually smelled (and Dean always smelled wonderful), but this time it was stronger, manlier (as far as a kid like Sam could tell), it was like Dean’s very essence was talking to Sam, bewitching him, stealing his heart. He would have lied if he had said that his heart hadn’t belonged to Dean pretty much forever, but this time it was definite. This time Sam lost himself to Dean completely.

He didn’t move, enjoying the touch, the contact, feeling the invisible strings tying him to Dean tightly. He raised his head, looking at his brother, and was captivated by the look of the beautiful green eyes staring back at him. His heart was hammering loudly, desperate to contain all those feelings, all that love and longing, and causing strong but sweet pain… Sam’s attention shifted to Dean’s lips, following their perfect line, and he remembered the soft, innocent kisses he had given them – and blushed. Suddenly, the action felt so surreal, so distant…

He hid his face in Dean’s T-shirt again.

“Hey, Sammy, what’s up?” Dean asked, stroking Sam’s back.

“Nothing. Just happy you’re here.”

Sam took a deep breath. God, even though the scent was fading, it was still strong enough to drive Sam crazy.

“Love you,” he muttered in Dean’s T-shirt and heard how Dean’s heart started beating faster.

A quiet voice sounded into the silence, “Missed you, too, kiddo.”

Sam frowned, looking up at Dean again. “You’re not that old, either.”

Dean chuckled.  “Still older than you. Always will be. That gives me the right to call you ‘kiddo’.”

“Pshaw, old man,” Sam snorted and grinned at Dean’s disgusted expression.

He snuggled closer; every intake of breath was an attempt to get as much of that wonderful smell into his lungs as possible.

“Hey, pup, shouldn’t you do your homework?” Dean asked after a while.

“I don’t care about the homework.” Why should he when Dean was there and he was much more interesting than any homework could ever be (unless it was about Dean)?

“Fine, but I’d still prefer a room to the staircase, whatever we do.”

Sam admitted there was something about it. A room sounded more comfortable. He pulled away from his brother unwillingly, following Dean into Bobby’s bedroom – or Sam’s room if he wanted to be precise. Bobby didn’t sleep there anymore and he used the room very rarely, usually only when he wanted something from there or put something away in there.

After a small chat about how they had been doing during the time they hadn’t seen each other (Dean didn’t mention to Sam that he had been given smaller tasks during Dad’s hunts), they ended up doing the homework. Or, truth be told, Dean was trying to persuade Sam to concentrate, but the younger boy was busy cuddling to his brother, sniffing him all over stealthily. Dean endured it patiently. He didn’t say anything even when Sam climbed on his back while Dean was lying on his stomach on the bed, a textbook in front of him, and he was trying to bring his brother’s attention to the stuff written there. His patience was at the end when he felt Sammy’s hand fumbling under his T-shirt.

Dean pounced on Sam, knocking him down on the bed. Sam gave a surprised yelp, but had no time to recover from the shock as Dean grabbed his wrists and pressed them to the mattress on either side of Sam’s head.

“That’s _enough,_ ” he said strictly. “Do your damn homework, or I’ll lock you in here and won’t let you out until you finish it!”

“Won’t work. I have a lock pick and I’m good with it,” Sam said, remembering the time when he had to promise Bobby that he wouldn’t use the thing in the house ever again unless he was allowed to.

“Really?” Dean’s eyes narrowed, and Sam noticed a dangerous flash in them. “Do you wanna provoke me?”

Sam swallowed heavily. Something about Dean wasn’t right. Suddenly, he was all predatory…

“No,” he said quietly, almost reverently.

“Good.” Dean smiled again, the shadow of the dangerous beast vanished from his features. “Seriously, Sammy, finish the homework so that we can hang out finally.”

That actually worked, although it cost Sam all his willpower to not get distracted by Dean’s very presence in the room, but he couldn’t imagine Dean being anywhere else. They belonged with each other.

For the rest of the day, Sam followed Dean practically everywhere. Even when Dean used the bathroom, Sam waited outside the door. On one hand, Sam’s attention pleased Dean in some perverted way, on the other, because he knew what had caused this craziness, it was embarrassing as hell.

In the evening, while huddled on the floor with their backs pressed to the couch in front of the TV, Sam snuggled into Dean’s side and Dean put an arm around his shoulders, one of the phones in Bobby’s kitchen rang. The boys hardly paid any attention to it until Bobby turned up in the living room.

“Dean, your dad called. I shall take you to school tomorrow, he said he’d arranged everything.”

Dean gaped at Bobby, puzzled. “What?”

“Seems you’re staying here for a while.”

“Did he leave me behind?” Dean asked incredulously, not noticing the excited shiver that ran down his brother’s body or anticipating anything fishy from the light bump of Sam’s nose on his neck.

“Are you disappointed?” Bobby asked, regarding the older boy.

Dean bit his lip, thinking. No, he wasn’t disappointed, he was with Sammy after all, but he wasn’t thrilled about being left behind like a luggage, either. Dad needed him.

The touch of something wet on his neck interrupted his musing.

“Dammit, Sam, stop it already!” He pushed his brother away not so gently. The tip of Sam’s tongue was still caught between his lips, the surprise in his face more than obvious. “Are you insane?” Dean growled as he stood up from the floor and marched out from the room. He had enough embarrassment for one day.

Sam watched him leave with hurt expression.

“What was that about?” Bobby asked, but Sam didn’t reply and curled up guiltily.

Pamela peeped into the living room. “What happened? I met Dean in the hall. He looked pretty pissed.”

Bobby motioned to the ball of remorse on the floor.

“Sam?” Pamela addressed him in a gentle tone. “What’s up?”

Sam turned to her. “I don’t know,” he said unhappily. “When we returned home today, Dean smelled so nice. I mean… he always does, but…”

Pamela raised her eyebrow. “But this time it was much, much richer.”

Sam nodded, looking away.

“And you couldn’t keep your hands and nose away from him.”

Sam bit his lip nervously. “He’s angry now.”

“You know, I don’t blame him. He loves you and therefore he’s very patient with you, but even his patience has its limits and there is only so much embarrassment one can handle.”

Sam straightened up. “I didn’t want…”

“I know,” Pamela interrupted him. “Go upstairs and apologize. Dean will forgive you.”

Sam stood up slowly, but he was hesitant to leave the room. He looked at Pamela. “Do you know what happened? Why Dean smelled so nice?”

“Yes, but it’s Dean’s secret, so I’m not telling you,” she said and smiled, and Sam knew she was not going to tell him anything more, so there was no point in delaying the inevitable. There was an apology he owed Dean.

As Sam’s steps on the stairs could be heard, Bobby leaned to Pamela. “So? What’s going on?” he asked in a low voice.

“You really wanna know?” Pamela asked indifferently.

“I’m responsible for them, aren’t I?”

“All right then,” she said. “Let’s say the reason is very likely the same as when Karen jumped you every time she could smell that on you.”

“Huh?”

“And you got laid,” she specified.

Bobby’s eyes widened. “Oh… Balls! Aren’t they too young for such things?”

Pamela sniggered. “Dean’s not anymore. And Sam has a very sensitive nose.”

“Damn teenagers,” Bobby grunted.

Pamela chuckled. “Sam’s not even ten.”

“He’s turning next week.”

“Still not teen.”

“It obviously doesn’t matter.”

“What are you going to do?”

“They need something to spend their energy. If Dean’s staying, he’ll have to accept our daily routine.”

Pamela grinned. “That means the training. A lot of it. Shall I take him for the run tomorrow morning?”

“If he wants. I’ll talk to him in the afternoon, and then he’s joining Sam whether he likes it or not. No more choices, no more excuses for either of them.”

“So Dean is Sam’s excuse for skipping the training today?” Pamela asked teasingly.

Bobby folded his arms on his chest. “You enjoyed some free time as well,” he said, unable to hold his own grin.

“It was a nice day,” Pamela agreed. “Beer?”

“Sure.”

They both left into the kitchen.

Meanwhile upstairs, Sam tried to apologize. When he entered the room, Dean was already in bed, turned away from Sam’s side.

Sam came up to the bed, heart beating nervously, hands shaking. “Dean, are you sleeping?”

“Yes,” came the growl.

“Are you mad?”

“Yes.”

Sam crawled in bed. “I’m sorry.”

Dean sighed, not turning to his brother.

“Please, Dean. Say something.” Sam put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, feeling the familiar immediate flow of emotions, but it didn’t last long as Dean shook Sam’s hand away.

“Don’t touch me.”

A sharp pain pierced Sam’s heart. “Dean… I’m so sorry,” he whispered, trying to hold back a sob, but the tears were already in his eyes and his voice was high and unnatural. “Please.”

If Dean couldn’t stand something, it was his brother’s tears. He rolled on his back, but still didn’t look at Sam. “I know you can feel me when you touch me, Sammy, and I don’t want you to feel me right now. I’m so pissed. At you, at Dad, at myself…” He sighed again. “Just leave me alone. I’ll be okay tomorrow.”

A loud sob echoed into the tense silence in the room. “You won’t,” Sam said, convinced.

“Do you wanna piss me off even more?” Dean asked, but there was no heat. Sam was right, he wouldn’t be okay.

This time Sam stayed silent.

“Look, Sammy,” Dean started slowly. “There’s so much going on. I’m helping Dad with the hunts.”

There was a gasp from Sam’s side of the bed. Dean looked at his brother whose wet eyes were shining in the darkness as the starlight from the outside glittered in them.

“Don’t worry, it’s just minor tasks. But there’s so much…” he swallowed and looked away. “There’s so much darkness and…” He turned his head to Sam again. “You’re here, you’re protected and you have a normal life…”

“I’m guarded and I have to train a lot,” Sam protested.

“But you’re safe,” Dean insisted. “You know so very little about the world outside and I want it to stay like that. You deserve better than that.”

“And you? You do, too!” Sam said resolutely.

Dean was quiet for some time until he spoke again. “I want to be able to protect you when we… you know… the deal.”

Sam held a breath. “You said no word about it,” he said after a while.

Dean smiled. “It applied to you, not me, smartass. Come here.” Dean’s hand touched Sam’s shoulder lightly, which was the unmistakable sign Sam was allowed to cuddle up to him (finally!). The wave of anger and sadness washed over him, but also calmness and comfort. And love. Sam was loved and nothing else mattered.

Dean folded his arms around him, stroking his back, and Sam would have been long asleep if there wasn’t this one thing still bugging him.

“Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Please, don’t get pissed, but… Can you tell me why you smelled so beautifully? Please.”

“Can’t you just let it go? I don’t want to talk about it,” Dean said softly, but Sam could feel the awkwardness.

“I’m sorry.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“You did it?”

“Sammy.” Dean’s voice was strict.

Sam breathed out. “I remember when I was little, kids wanted to marry their moms or dads. I wanted to marry you…”

Dean stiffened. He knew Sam could feel his sudden nervousness, and really, Sam lifted his head and looked at him curiously. Of all the things Dean could say, for example ask _Why me?_ Or tease _I didn’t realize I looked so girly_ or just laugh at the absurdity of a kid’s dream, he asked, “You don’t anymore?”

Sam chuckled. “I thought you knew brothers can’t get married.”

“Right, that’s right,” Dean said and coughed awkwardly. “I was just testing you.”

“You’re a weirdo,” Sam said cheerfully.

“And what? You’re a bitch.”

“And you’re a jerk.” Sam grinned right into Dean’s face before he pressed his mouth to Dean’s lips in a quick, playful kiss. “Good night.”

“You think you’re smart?” Dean asked, sounding unimpressed, but he could hardly fight the happiness seeping into his veins and circulating through his body. He took Sam’s chin in his hand, pulling him down for another kiss, this time slower and softer – and he was not going to feel guilty about it tonight. Not a bit. It was a game, a challenge, Sam started it so he was to blame.

“Good night, Sammy.”

Sam sighed quietly, licking his lips. His head sank on Dean’s chest and Dean ran his hand through the shaggy chestnut hair.

Their hearts were beating like mad in a surprising unison.

Next day Pamela came to wake Sam up for the morning run. Even though Dean was allowed to stay in bed, he joined them. It was nice to be out and do something normal. The bonus was seeing Sammy fooling around light-hearted. He teased Dean and they ended up chasing each other in the yard. Every time Dean caught his brother, Sam squealed and they both laughed at the sound. When Pamela called the end of the game after some time, Dean lifted Sam from the ground and brought the giggling boy inside.

School wasn’t as bad as Dean expected, Sammy was there after all and they spent the lunch break together. Dean had more classes than Sam and until they were over, Sam waited for him in the school library.

Dean wasn’t interested in girls much. He liked to look at them, of course, but he didn’t feel the urge to get himself one; his interest was directed to Sam right now. Only girls didn’t get his lack of interest and kept coming. Dean never sent them away, he talked to them, laughed with them, made Sam scowl and then he laughed, but he never missed a chance to be with his brother when he could. Girls could wait, there were loads of them everywhere. Now Dean spent as much time with Sammy as possible. Dad could come for him anytime and only God knew when they would be able to see each other again.

Morning chasing games became a routine, but they were hardly boring. Just like the evening runs. Or playing hide-and-seek among the car wrecks (the only condition was not to go far) in which Sam always beat Dean. Dean accused him of cheating, because Sam could simply sniff him out and didn’t need to read any tracks or simply think about the hiding place. Sam only grinned and didn’t try to explain that more than on his nose he relied on the little changes in the feeling of Dean’s presence that always lead him unerringly to his brother. Dean realized only after subtle guidance from Pamela, but it took him some time until he learned to concentrate on his own feelings and desires and read them correctly. Still, finding Sam wasn’t a piece of cake. Besides, the little bitch knew the salvage yard better than anyone else and found hiding places where Dean would hardly have expected him to be. Also, the little devil didn’t stay in one place, but changed them according to Dean’s successfulness in seeking.

The hiding places always had to be approved by Bobby or Pamela, which wasn’t such a surprise when Dean thought about the fact that he and Sam were not allowed to go anywhere without one of their guardians. Which was annoying as hell. Dean wasn’t used to such supervision. Even though neither Bobby nor Pamela mixed between him and Sam, they were always somewhere close to keep an eye on the two of them. Dean wished for more privacy with his brother.

Sparring lessons after school were actually fun. Nothing like with Dad. It was Sammy with whom Dean trained and Sammy needed to learn a lot. Dean explained to him patiently everything he knew, showed him the grips and moves, and Sam listened closely and repeated Dean’s demonstrations. He learned quickly and they were soon competing over who was better. (Dean was without any doubts. Sam lacked experience, style, muscles, and height.)

One day, as Bobby and Pamela were watching the boys sparring, Bobby said quietly, “Isn’t it weird that Sam’s not biting Dean?”

“Not really,” Pamela said. “Deep down, Sam knows he mustn’t hurt Dean and that includes using his teeth. They are pretty sharp.” She showed Bobby an old small cut on her hand. “He didn’t want to hurt me. He just did what was natural for him. Just like he’s doing now, only in a different way. We’re programmed not to hurt our Warriors even if it kills us.”

“Sad…” Bobby muttered.

Pamela smiled sorrowfully. “We’re proud of it. We’re here to protect, no matter the cost.”

They were silent for a moment, watching the boys train, seeing the concentration on their faces, the effort to not miss a chance to strike, and the carefulness to not leave an opening.

“Watch Dean,” Pamela said after a while in a more cheerful voice. “He’s not as ruthless as he was when he trained with John.”

“It’s understandable; he’s fighting his little brother, of course he’s gentler,” Bobby objected.

“No, look at him. He wants to win. Yes, we both know he always will with Sam, because Sam lets him, but… Look how he calculates his every move. He’s actually thinking what the victory would cost him. That’s not a Ripper, that’s a Warrior who knows the value of life.”

They were distracted by the boys’ laughter. After Sam ended up on his back (again) and Dean wanted to help him back on his feet, Sam used the moment of surprise and pulled his brother down. Dean lost his balance and fell on the ground next to Sam. Now they were lying in the dust next to each other and giggling uncontrollably.

“Okay, boys, time to wash and do the homework,” Bobby called after a while and moved into the house.

Dean wanted to stand up, but Sam threw himself on him, preventing Dean from any move. He laughed mischievously into his brother’s face and licked the tip of his nose.

“Yuck, Sammy!” Dean wiped the nose with the back of his hand.

Sam chuckled, getting to his feet himself.

“Just wait!” Dean jumped up and snatched for Sam, but the younger boy was already running away from him and into the house. Dean ran after him, almost hitting Pamela in the hall.

“Hey! No running in the house!” she called after them, but neither of the boys listened to her as they ran up the stairs. Paper-rock-scissors decided who went first into the shower (Sam) and then the time for fooling around was over.

 


	6. Birthday

 

Dean loved the routine in Bobby’s house. He had hardly any time for himself with the school and the training, but there always was a little time to hang out with Sam between the training sessions or during the lunch break at school. Except during the classes, they were always together and Dean felt like it was never supposed to be otherwise. He dreaded the day Dad would come back for him.

One evening before they went to sleep, Dean asked, “Sammy? How much would you mind skipping the afternoon classes tomorrow?”

Sam’s eyes widened with confusion. “Why? You didn’t like when I did it the last time.”

“It’s your birthday and I thought we should do something special.”

“Like skipping classes?” Sam asked doubtfully.

“No. Like hanging out together without Pamela or Bobby around. It’s annoying having them behind our asses all the time…”

Sam squirmed next to Dean. “They’ll be pissed. They say it’s dangerous without them around.”

“Maybe for you, but not for me,” Dean said confidently. “I’m not useless, I can fight. I’ll protect you. By the way, you’re not so bad yourself.” He smiled and Sam blushed. “So? What do you say? It’s your call, Sammy, your birthday.”

“They’ll be very pissed.”

“Not as long as we manage to get back to school till the classes are over. Bobby won’t notice anything.”

“What will we do?” Sam asked curiously.

Dean shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

“Eat ice cream?” Sam asked hopefully.

Dean grinned. “Sure thing.”

“See the park?”

“Of course.”

“No training, just play?”

“Definitely.”

Sam smiled. “You want to go?”

“With you, yeah. To celebrate. Just you and me.”

“Just you and me.” Sam’s smile was wide and infectious. “I’d like that.”

“Great!” Dean beamed. “Now listen, we’ll do it like this…”

Next day, during the lunch break, Sam and Dean met in the agreed place in the school yard. As they were hurrying to the gate, Sam hesitated, looking back at the building. Dean sighed and took his hand, pulling Sam after him.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be safe. I have my hunting knife with me,” Dean said, as he interpreted Sam’s hesitation as the fear of the danger lurking in the shadows outside.

Sam’s eyes widened. “In your bag?”

“In my boot,” Dean said impatiently as both boys sneaked out through the open gate.

They ran away from the school grounds, Dean grinning like a loon as he was still gripping Sam’s hand. “Where now, Sammy? It’s your day.”

“I don’t know… The ice cream?” Sam suggested sheepishly.

Dean winked at him. “Okay, let’s eat the ice cream.”

Not long after they were leaving a small candy store with a paper bag full of candy and each of them was holding a cone with a big portion of ice cream: Dean went for traditional chocolate and vanilla while Sam was enjoying his strawberry and peanut butter flavored ice cream. Heading into the park, they were teasing each other and laughing cheerfully.

It was the best day of the last few years of Sam’s life. The park was beautiful and full of many interesting things and smells. There were a lot of people with their kids or dogs and while no one paid any attention to two boys obviously having fun together, Sam’s nervousness about the potential danger Bobby and Pamela used to talk about disappeared pretty soon. Once the ice cream was gone and they wiped their sticky hands into their jeans, they sat down on a bench and, eating the candy, they enjoyed the sun. Gradually, Sam paid less and less attention to the people around and more and more to his brother. Dean was glowing. He was cheerful and content and the darkness Sam could feel every time he touched him before, was slowly vanishing. There were no times of dizziness, no pain, no sorrow, just the two of them together, tightly bound to each other and happy.

Dean looked at Sam and Sam’s heart made a somersault. Dean’s eyes were bright, smiling at Sam, and the warmth in them filled Sam’s every cell. Every time he reached out, Dean was there reaching back for his brother.

Sitting on the bench started being boring soon, so Sam grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled him up. He wanted to run, to feel the freedom in his bones and muscles, to care only about one person. He persuaded Dean to chase him, laughing happily when Dean caught him, running into his arms himself… A few dogs joined them, chasing them around on a big lawn, separating them and helping them to find their way back to each other. They play-fought and the dogs barked at them, jumping around. They let them lick their faces before they collapsed on the grass in a knot of arms and legs. Sam bent over Dean with a broad grin and Dean kissed him gently, putting all his love and shyness in the action.

“Happy birthday, Sammy.”

Sam smiled sheepishly, his face flushed. He didn’t say anything, just bent to Dean’s lips again, pressing their mouths together one more time.

The fluffy dog bodies around them blocked them successfully from view, giving them the so very much desired feeling of privacy.

“We should go,” Dean said after a while, deeply regretting that they didn’t have more time. Sam let go of him, standing up, and he froze as he did.

Dean stood up as well, curious what distressed Sam. There, by a bench on which they left their school bags, stood Bobby, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression grim.

“Oh, shit…” Dean cursed, reaching for Sam’s hand and feeling how it slid into his immediately as though Sam had been waiting only for that.

They neared the hunter cautiously, expecting a burst of anger, but everything Bobby said to them was a “Let’s go” forced trough gritted teeth, and they knew they were in a deep trouble. Hand in hand, heads down, they followed Bobby out of the park to the car parked a few blocks away. Bobby didn’t say a word to them except “Get in” when they reached the car, and then the tense silence continued.

“Hey, you’re late. Did something happen?” Pamela’s troubled voice echoed in the yard as they got out from the car. Dean glanced at her guiltily before he looked away, ashamed. Sam was gripping his hand again.

“A lot of things happened and I’d really love to know what inspired them,” Bobby said coldly. Dean chanced a look at him, but he regretted it the moment his eyes met Bobby’s.

“What does it mean? What happened?” Pamela asked confusedly.

“Sam? Dean?” Bobby asked, his tone still cold and impersonal.

Sam took a deep breath. “We skipped the afternoon classes,” he said quietly.

“Obviously. Why?”

Dean couldn’t take it anymore. He raised his head, looking directly at Bobby. “It was my idea, I’m sorry, but it’s Sammy’s birthday and I wanted him to have some fun.”

He swallowed when Bobby’s eyes narrowed. “Skipping classes and roaming the town is the kind of the thing you consider to be fun, Dean?”

“I… shit.” Dean fell silent, head down again.

Pamela came closer. “Please, tell me you didn’t go to the town alone,” she said, and she looked like her head hurt.

“They did,” Bobby said, and when did he become so tall? Dean felt small and helpless suddenly.

“Sam, please, you didn’t…”

“We did,” Sam whispered, ashamed.

“Despite everything…” Pamela breathed out.

Dean frowned. “Didn’t you hear me? I said it’s my fault. I persuaded Sam, I’m to blame.”

“Why would you do that, Dean?” Pamela asked tiredly.

“Why? Because you hold him under your watch 24/7! It’s like in a cage here! He can’t do anything without you knowing, can’t go anywhere!” Dean glared at the two adults as he stepped in front of Sam, shielding him from their view.

“Dean…” Sam addressed him softly.

Dean ignored him. He was angry himself now. “Don’t you understand? There’s no secrets, no privacy…!”

“Dean,” Sam repeated more urgently.

“Privacy? In the middle of the park full of strange people?” Bobby cut Dean off midsentence. “Do you think that we set the rules just out of sheer fun? Because it’s so damn amusing to watch you two being all over each other?”

Both Dean and Sam blushed at this. Even Bobby realized he went too far. He coughed nervously.

“You’re grounded. Both of you. You may leave the house only for school or the training. You’re not allowed to leave your room as well unless it’s a mealtime or you need to use the bathroom. And now get out of my sight while I’m still watching my temper.”

Dean didn’t move immediately and when Sam pulled his hand, he almost lost his balance. Sam’s warning look told him to be quiet and simply follow if he didn’t want it to be worse.

“So the park and totally alone,” Pamela summed the most important pieces of information.

“That’s not everything,” Bobby said gravely.

“What else?” she asked, tensing at once.

“They weren’t subtle at all. Damn, they were as obvious as the Freedom Statue. And even more.”

“What more?”

“Seems that Dean’s chosen his path.”

“You mean…” Pamela bent her fingers in the shape of a heart.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean.”

“Hm… It will be less painful for Sam at least…” she mused.

“Or as painful as hell for both of them,” Bobby said, his forehead creased. “I just hope they didn’t draw any unwanted attention…”

“It was really reckless. I wouldn’t expect that from Sam.”

Bobby sighed. “It’s time for a chat apparently…”

“Good luck with that,” Pamela patted his shoulder. “I’ll try to talk to Dean meanwhile.”

She went back into the house while Bobby took the direction into the garage. In a few minutes there was a sound of metal components crashing into each other angrily; Bobby was trying to tidy up the garage to calm down his anger a little bit…

Meanwhile the boys in their room started doing their homework. They didn’t talk to each other and that unnerved Dean immensely.

“Hey, Sammy. I’m sorry it turned out like this,” he apologized, hoping the tension between them would disappear.

“It’s okay,” Sam said without raising his head from a textbook.

“No, it’s not. I’m really sorry.”

Sam glanced at Dean. “I know and it’s okay,” he said more resolutely and turned his attention back to the book.

The training went in the same tense atmosphere. They were shooting today. Bobby gave Dean one of his shotguns while Sam was given a lighter pistol. Dean’s aim was as perfect as ever, but Sam missed the target more often than normally as he was too distracted. Dean didn’t try to help him concentrate this time.

After the training, they took rounds in the bathroom and then went down for dinner. Bobby turned up in the kitchen for a beer while Pamela was already helping herself with a shot of whiskey.

Leaving the kitchen, Bobby said to Sam, “When you’re finish, I expect you in the living room. We need to talk.”

Sam fixed his big, scared eyes on him, but he nodded mutely. Dean looked at the hunter, then at Sam, and then back at Bobby. He had a bad feeling about that, but he didn’t dare to say anything.

Sam left half of his portion unfinished when he left the kitchen after some time, followed by Dean’s regretful look.

“Was the trip at least worth the consequences?” Pamela asked as she joined Dean at the table.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Dean said stubbornly, frowning while avoiding Pamela’s eye in the same time.

“You don’t need to. I just want you to listen.”

Dean bit his lip, but stayed quiet.

“You know that Sam’s not a normal kid, that there is so much more about him than he lets out. He’s not alone, there are more persons of his kind.”

That caught Dean’s attention. “Are there?”

“Yes, but that’s not important. The important part is that their number is rapidly decreasing. Someone out there has been eliminating them. You know what it means, don’t you?”

Dean held a breath. Some motherfucker wanted to hurt Sammy? It wasn’t going to happen, not while Dean was still breathing. He frowned. “How do you know that?”

“I know many things. Just like your father does. Why do you think he left Sam here?”

Dean blinked, puzzled. “To keep us separated.”

Pamela’s lips formed a thin line. “Partly, yes,” she said, and Dean would swear she got angry at that moment, just not with him this time. “When alone, Sam’s mostly all right. Not unrecognizable, but who doesn’t know what to look for or doesn’t expect someone like him to be around, can easily miss his true identity. But when he’s with you, he gives everything out. He becomes a trouble magnet and that’s dangerous even for you. That’s what your father wanted to achieve when he left Sam here and took you with him – to minimize such danger.”

Dean’s eyes went round. He never knew. “Who’s behind it?” he asked.

“Behind the deaths? Mainly demons, but we still don’t know what their true purpose is.”

“Who else?”

“People who know too much. They may not want to kill Sam, but they’ll want to hurt him anyway.”

“Because he’s what he is?”

“Yes.”

“That’s racist.”

Pamela gave a small smile. “No. That’s choosing the one with power. You’ve figured that about Sam, haven’t you?”

Dean shrugged. “Sammy’s a weirdo, but he’s not a freak.”

“No, he’s not,” Pamela greed. “He’s only the boy that would follow you even to Hell and back again. If you asked him to skip school tomorrow again and go with you, he would do that, damn the consequences. That’s why I’m asking you to be careful what you want from him. And talking about skipping school…” Pamela gave Dean a strict look. “Did you really think we wouldn’t find out? Especially when Sam was in trouble for it just recently? The school is surely going to call Bobby tomorrow.”

Dean shrugged. “I didn’t think about that.”

“No, you weren’t thinking at all. So… did you have a good time?”

Dean glanced at Pamela, not knowing if she was making fun of him or was genuinely interested. “Yeah, we had a good time. I think Sammy enjoyed it.”

Pamela nodded with a smile. “At least that.”

“How long are we grounded?”

“A week, I think.”

Dean stared. “What? A whole week?”

“Uhm. Full. Seven. Days. Starting this afternoon,” she said, trying to stifle an amused grin as she saw his horrified face.

“Oh, God!” Dean moaned, hiding his face in his hands. Perfect. Just perfect. For a bit of freedom a whole week of prison…

Suddenly Dean realized that Sam had been aware of the possible severity of the punishment all along and he still hadn’t tried to stop Dean but went with him instead.

Meanwhile Sam was cringing on the couch, trying to look as small as possible if not invisible. Bobby was sitting at his huge desk, regarding him closely.

“You disappointed me, Sam,” Bobby said finally in a low, careful tone.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, but I also know why you did it. I know you’re not able to be sorry enough, because Dean enjoyed the time and that’s what counts for you. But that’s not right, Sam. You know why the rules were set. Now I’d like to know what you did to try to stop Dean from his foolish idea.”

“Er…” Sam gaped at Bobby, not sure what the hunter wanted from him. “I told him you’d be mad.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

Bobby sighed. “Look, Sam, this is no fun. There’s a real danger out there. Dean didn’t realize that, because he doesn’t know many things you do and you don’t know what he does. It’s not right, but that’s how it is. As Dean’s Protector, you have the task to keep him safe. Going with him wasn’t safe. Your task was to try to persuade him to let go of the idea as hard as you could. Only if everything failed, you were supposed to go with him. Don’t follow him blindly, Sam, use your head, or you get you both hurt.”

Sam paled. Hurt Dean was the last thing he wanted. Next time he was going to tie Dean to bed when he thought the idea was stupid. (He hoped he wouldn’t need to be so radical since he was aware that it would be him who would end up tied to bed. Dean was still taller and stronger.)

“I understand,” he said, feeling sick.

“Good. Now you know what to do next time. As for the punishment, I think three days are quite enough.”

Sam straightened up, hopeful eyes fixed on Bobby, who was now smiling for some incomprehensible reason.

“We just need to come up with some believable excuse for the school. Dean can help with that one since he got you in this. Anyway…” Bobby opened a drawer on his desk and pulled out a brand new book. “Happy birthday.”

Sam jumped off the couch and came up to Bobby to take the book. _Jack London, Calling of the Wild_.  Sam beamed. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. And now we have some important things to discuss.”

Sam’s enthusiasm was gone immediately. “What things?”

“Well, I already know Dean’s opinion. Now I’d love to hear yours. You’re getting older and it’s only natural you’ll want more freedom without anyone watching over you all the time.”

Sam put the book on the desk. “I don’t really mind,” he said carefully. “But Dean does.”

“Fine. What do you want to do about it?”

Sam shrugged. “He wants us to be alone sometimes. Just the two of us.”

“Okay. So?”

Sam breathed out. “I’d love to give him that, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea…”

“It certainly isn’t, but we can try to figure the safest way to give it to him from time to time. Are you in?”

Sam’s heart started beating faster. He nodded eagerly.

“Dean’s not a helpless kid anymore. Maybe it’s time to trust him. And neither are you. You can beat crap out of people, too. And you both can shoot damn well. We can start with that.”

“Shoot?” Sam crinkled his nose.

“Yeah. You don’t think I let you out of my sight unarmed, do you? I’ll lend you a sharp knife as well. That should be enough.”

Sam’s eyes were wide.

“Take it as a higher level training. Anything more you want to say?”

Sam shook his head.

“Good. Now go to your room. I don’t want to hear about you two till tomorrow morning.”

Sam grabbed the book and, as he was leaving the living room, he noticed Bobby was smiling. 

Dean was already in the room when Sam stepped in.

“Why are you grinning?” Dean asked from the bed, obviously bored.

“Do you know how long we are grounded?” Sam jumped on the bed next to his brother.

“I don’t. A week?” Dean offered.

Sam shook his head. “Three days.”

A wide grin slowly spread over Dean’s face. “You’re kidding. How did we get this lucky?”

Sam shrugged, the roguish sparkles didn’t vanish from his eyes.

“Are you magical?”

Sam laughed. “Don’t be stupid.” He climbed in Dean’s lap (“Whoa! Aren’t you a little bit old for that?” “Shut up.”) and snuggled close. “I liked the ice cream. And I totally enjoyed the park. Thank you.”

Dean removed a few strands of hair falling into Sam’s face. “I’m glad. That was the point of the whole thing. Though it didn’t end that well, for which I’m sorry.”

“It’s not so bad,” Sam said, putting his head on Dean’s shoulder, and yawned.

“I don’t know. However I bet it could be worse. They won’t let us from their sight so soon, right?”

But Sam didn’t answer. He was already asleep.

Next day, before the morning run, Bobby called them into the living room.

“Looking back at what happened yesterday, we agreed you two need more space. Now you decide if you want to go for the run alone or with Pamela.”

Dean blinked, perplexed, while Sam looked totally uninterested.

“We have a choice?” Dean asked, doubtfully.

“Sam didn’t tell you?”

Dean glanced at his brother, his eyebrow arched.

Sam shrugged, giving Dean a small smile. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“The point is, while you’re alone, I want you to carry guns.” Bobby put two pistols on his desk. “In case of danger, you wouldn’t hesitate to use it even at a human, would you?” he asked Dean.

Dean just stared.

“Dean, it’s vitally important.”

“I…” Dean glanced at Sam and tried to imagine as someone wanted to hurt him. “No, I don’t think I would hesitate.”

“Good. I don’t want you to kill. I only want to you slow down, hurt, buy you some time to run. Do you understand? Both of you?”

The boys nodded.

“Excellent. Now… The guns are already loaded. Each of you has two bullets with a Devil’s Trap curved into them. That should protect you from demons. I didn’t have time to make more such bullets, but I hope you won’t need to use ‘em. As for other weapons… Here’s the promised knife, Sam.” Bobby put a smaller hunting knife on the desk. “I believe you already have yours,” he looked at Dean expectantly.”

“I do.”

“You’ll carry them with you, too.”

“Isn’t that a bit too much?” Dean asked, looking at the guns. They were going just for a run. Not even far from the salvage yard.

“Do you wanna argue?” Bobby asked, a challenge in his voice.

“No.”

“So?”

“I’m for it. Sammy?”

“Uhm…”

Dean reached for one of the guns, handing the other to Sam, but then he hesitated. “Where am I supposed to tuck it?”

“Try the back of your jeans. That’s what you usually wear when Dad takes you for a hunt, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but…” Dean looked at his and Sam’s sweatpants. “Does it mean we have to change?”

“If you’re going alone, then yes.”

“Fine…”

A few minutes later, changed in jeans, with the cool metal of guns pressed to the warm skin on their backs and the knives hidden in their boots, they were running down the road, away from the salvage yard, Dean ecstatic about the fact there was no one accompanying them.

“I can’t believe it! What did you tell him yesterday?”

“Nothing, I only apologized,” Sam said indifferently.

“You _are_ magical,” Dean said with a grin and stopped.

“… am not.” Sam’s cheeks turned suddenly pink. “We’re supposed to be running.”

“Yes, right. Give me a moment.” Dean took a deep breath of the cool morning air. “Freedom.”

“You’re weird.”

“You’re even more.”

“We’re supposed to be back on time if we want to go out alone again…”

“I know, I heard Pamela. Let’s run.”

When they returned, they found Bobby standing outside the house, waiting for them. Sam could smell nervousness on him, but the hunter just smiled and hurried them into the house to take a shower and eat breakfast so that he could take them to school.

The days continued in their comfortable routine. Yes, there was the punishment, which turned out being not as bad as Dean had thought it would be. He and Sam were together, thanks to the training were out quite often and when the three days were over, Dean even chanced to ask Bobby for a permission to take Sam out to the town without the supervision. Bobby gave them the guns, warned the boys to keep them out of sight and took them to the town.

No matter where they went, Sam noticed Bobby’s smell lingered in the air, but he never mentioned that to Dean, who was enjoying himself enormously. Sam didn’t want that joy to disappear just because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

And then Dad came to take Dean with him. Wordless, Dean packed his things while Sam watched him with sad dog eyes.

“Dean, I…”

“What?”

Sam reached into his school bag. “I want you to have this.” He handed his brother a small copper horned pendant dangling on a leather string. “Bobby gave it to me. He said it’s a protecting amulet. It should protect from danger…”

Dean looked at the amulet, a lump growing in his throat. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Dean smiled and nodded, wanting to take the amulet, but Sam pulled his hand with it out of Dean’s reach. “Let me.”

“Okay.” Dean bent lower so that Sam could put the amulet around his neck. “Thank you.” He took Sam’s face in his hands, kissing him softly and slowly, the kiss different from any other before, different from the goodnight kisses Sam knew so well, different from the ones in the park. Different and scary and good, clouding Sam’s mind and making him wish the moment was never over. When he felt the pressure of Dean’s lips on his mouth decreasing, he followed them, not allowing Dean to break the contact. Dean sighed quietly, pressing harder, his lips slightly parted. His tongue swept over Sam’s mouth experimentally, making Sam shiver. It seemed that was exactly the moment when Dean woke up from his trance and pushed Sam away gently. “See you, Sammy.”

Sam tried hard not to look disappointed, but he could hardly hide the sadness from the parting.

“Remember the deal,” Dean said in an attempt to encourage his little brother, but his voice sounded dull.

“Take care, Dean.”

“You too, Sammy.”

Dean walked down the stairs slowly, looking around. He hadn’t been here for too long, but the house already felt like home. Most importantly, there was someone waiting for him, making the place even more inviting. Dean was going, but half of his heart was staying while the other half was keeping him as much alive as he needed to survive the time until they would meet again.

As the engine purred, Dean looked out from the window to see Sam standing on the yard, not waving, smiling or crying, just standing there and watching until the Impala disappeared from his sight.

Sam wasn’t as sick as usual and it took him much shorter to get back to school. His body wasn’t aching that much as he was used to as well. It was his soul that hurt like bitch, taking his breath away. Physically, he was in a perfect shape within a couple of weeks, but inside he was a true mess. He wasn’t interested in his usual hobbies and he had no idea how he managed to make it through school every day. Training was boring and the privacy of the jeep so appealing… He didn’t notice Pamela’s and Bobby’s concerned looks, he didn’t listen to them when they were trying to talk to him. Everything he wished for was to yell his sorrow out into to the world, howl it at the moon, to scream his lungs out. The more he was holding it inside, the more torturing it was, and Sam didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what he wanted to do. Until one day, it all burst out…

Bobby called Sam inside a few times already, wondering where the boy could be. Sam went out, to collect a few things from the jeep as he had claimed, but he didn’t come back and it was already dark. What could possibly take him so long?

And then he heard it, a long, sorrowful howl of a dog or a wolf, he couldn’t tell. It was close, too close, and if Sam was out there…

Pamela stormed from the house as she heard it, scanning the surroundings with her watchful eyes. “Sam!”

No answer, just the howl again.

Bobby grabbed his rifle and walked out, the gun prepared to shoot. “Sam!”

Pamela gave him a horrified look. “Put the gun away!” she shrieked.

“What? Are you insane? You don’t know what it is. It might be either a werewolf or a skinwalker.”

“It’s Sam, dammit! Can’t you hear it? Of course you can’t…” Pamela turned away from him, ready to run into the darkness. “Sam!”

The howling didn’t echo over the salvage yard again. Instead, a pup of a German shepherd came out from behind one of the wrecks, almost crawling on the ground, with such a shame in his eyes that it ached.

“God,” Bobby breathed out and put the rifle down.

“Sam, come here,” Pamela called the dog as she crouched, a hand stretched out toward him in an inviting gesture. “Don’t be scared, no one’s gonna hurt you or punish you. You know this day would come. Now come here, we’ll take care of you.”

The dog plastered his ears to his skull and moved slowly to Pamela. As she touched his soft fur, he wagged his tail and licked her hand, absolute trust reflecting in his eyes. She ran a hand over his hairy body and then took the dog in her arms.

“Good boy, don’t be afraid,” she cooed as she lifted the pup from the ground. She felt as he was trembling, pressing to her chest as if looking for protection.

She took him into Sam’s/Bobby’s room and put him carefully on the bed.

“Sleep, Sam. When you wake up, it’ll feel just like a dream,” she said quietly, stroking the dog’s fur gently. “I’ll be here to keep an eye on you, I just need to talk to Bobby now. I’ll be right back, okay?” After saying that she left the room, closing the door silently.

“What now?” Bobby asked as she met him in the hall.

“He needs rest. You should call the school tomorrow to let them know he’s not coming for a couple of days.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Not bad, just…” Pamela shrugged.

“Just?” Bobby encouraged her.

“No Protector should shift because they can’t bear their sorrow anymore. They should shift because they want to protect, because it’s natural.”

“What does it mean for Sam?”

“I don’t know. When I shifted for the first time, it was because I wanted to show off. I was pretty smug about my form. Sam’s ashamed because he knows it happened for a wrong reason. He’s trying hard to be a good Protector…”

Bobby sighed. “I’d so kick John’s ass sometimes. They were so happy…”

Pamela patted his arm encouragingly. “You do what you can. Now I need to go back. This’ll be a tough night.”

In the end, Sam slept through the whole night, whining sadly from his dream from time to time. Pamela was there, soothing him, whispering calming words into his ear.

Sam turned back in the morning, sweating and trembling, and he fell asleep again. He slept till afternoon when he turned back into his dog form. He was silent, pretending he either didn’t understand or didn’t know how to answer when someone asked him something. Bobby and Pamela figured he didn’t want to talk to anyone. When Sam felt a little bit better, he spent days in the solitude of his jeep, unwilling to come back into the house even for meals. The ashamed expression hardly ever left his face.

At the beginning of the second week Bobby and Pamela agreed it was time to talk to the boy. After the dinner (which Sam almost missed again), they visited him in his room. Sam was in his dog form, curled up and completely hidden under covers. Pamela pulled the covers, revealing two pointed ears and meeting such a sad look of the puppy dog eyes that she stopped breathing for a moment. She could see a true torture.

“Sam,” she sighed. “What are you doing to yourself?”

Sam took the covers in his dog teeth and pulled them over his head again.

“No, no, no,” she said, pulling them away again.

“Sam,” it was Bobby’s determined voice. “We know you don’t feel well, we know you miss Dean very much, but you should go back to school and live your life again. This is not healthy. You should stop this nonsense…”

Bobby couldn’t remember when someone looked at him so reproachfully. Sam growled quietly, putting his head on his front paws.

“Stop it, Sam. No reason to be rude, especially when Bobby can’t understand you.”  It was Pamela this time, and she sounded annoyed. Sam lifted his head curiously. “You should know, kid, that no matter in which form, Protectors will always know what you say. Just like they know who you are whenever they see you. Protectors are not as blind and deaf as Warriors or, God save me, common people. So be careful what you say, I will always know.”

Sam’s attention shifted to Bobby and in the next second there was a boy lying in the bed with the covers high to his chin. “I’m sorry,” he said gloomily.

“That’s okay,” Bobby said, and his voice was gentle this time. “Let’s chalk it to the fact you’re not all right. You have a long way in front of you, son, and you should already know that while only Protectors can recognize each other as they are the same kind, Warriors and other people can’t recognize them unless the Protectors are obvious. Only your own Warrior can see and understand you in whichever form you are.”

“So… you can’t…” Sam asked with interest.

“No.”

“But Pamela and Dean can.”

“Yes.”

“And Dad?”

“He can’t.”

“Good.” Sam closed his eyes and pulled the covers over his head.

“Sam, we didn’t come here to talk to you about these things. We came to talk about what’s going on with you,” Pamela said, trying to pull the covers away once again, but Sam held them tight.

“I don’t wanna,” the muffled voice sounded.

Bobby and Pamela looked at each other.

“You miss Dean, that’s understandable…” Bobby started patiently.

The covers flew away and a fiery look pierced Bobby through and through. “You don’t understand! I…” Sam’s voice broke as he sniffed. “I can’t go back to school.”

“Why not?” Pamela asked.

“I simply can’t.”

“But why?” Bobby demanded.

Tears started collecting in Sam’s eyes. He curled up in a ball again and trembled. “I’m afraid I’ll break. It hurts so much. I can’t take it anymore. I want the pain to go away. I want it to stop, but I don’t know how.”

Pamela looked at Bobby. “Can you leave us, please?”

“You know what it means, right?” he asked carefully.

“Yes. It’s a Protector thing. Please, Bobby.”

He nodded and left the room.

Pamela turned to Sam shivering on the bed. “Now, the pain… I’m really sorry for what I’m going to reveal to you, Sam…”

He lifted his head. Two thick wet trails were already running down his cheeks. “What?”

“It won’t get better. Ever. You need to learn to live with it.”

Sam’s eyes were full of the deepest terror.

“I’m sorry,” she said and meant it. “Come here, I’ll explain.” She raised her arm for him to snuggle close. He was a pup after all. All pups liked snuggling.

He looked at her suspiciously. The raised arm was welcoming, but it wasn’t the one he longed for. He hesitated, but then shifted closer, giving Pamela an expectant look.

“You read the book,” she started softly. “They may be just stories, but you already know that deep in the core they are all true. There’s a tight bond that binds Protectors to Warriors, a strong power that doesn’t give them any choice but to follow their counterparts. The way you feel will never change. You know what the purpose of your existence is, don’t you?”

“To protect Dean,” Sam answered obediently.

“Yes, to protect Dean and to watch over his happiness. That’s what we do, that’s what makes us who we are. There’s no one more important than our Warriors. You’ll never be free of those feelings. It’s like a safeguard for the situations when you are forced to choose who you are going to save first…”

“Dean,” Sam said. He knew deep inside that it was the only right answer.

“Exactly,” Pamela said with a small, sad smile and stroked his hair. “You see? There’s never really a choice…” She sighed. “You are a slave of your own feelings. No matter how much you may hate it, you will never be able to go against that love. It determines you. You’ll do anything for your Warrior…”

Sam watched Pamela’s pained face, the absent look of her eyes, listened to the words that didn’t make sense. Hate it? How could he hate the way he felt for Dean? Sam was proud of the love for his brother, he cherished it and felt how it filled him more and more every day, how it was rooted deeper and deeper into his very essence. How could he hate all that when it felt so right, so nice? Sam loved that longing for Dean, even though it hurt so much.

He loved to be in love with his brother.

Because what else could it be?

The annoying ever-present insects in his stomach went crazy, fluttering their tiny wings feverishly. He had never realized how many of them there were, until now as he could feel each brush of their wings against his insides, every move and every try to burst out into the light. He groaned and thought of the dog that wanted to run miles to find his beloved master, his god.

“What happened to your Warrior?” he asked curiously. He had never dared to ask so far, feeling like it was the rudest thing a Protector could ask another Protector, but he always wondered. The only thing he knew was that Pamela’s Warrior had died.  Bobby had mentioned that once a long time ago. Sam didn’t know what gave him the courage to ask now, maybe the sorrow clouded his judgment and he didn’t care whether he was being rude anymore.

To his surprise, Pamela didn’t even stiffen. It felt like she knew the question would come eventually. “I failed to save him,” she said simply. “I didn’t get to him in time.”

Sam straightened up, the covers slid from his naked torso. “You weren’t with him?”

She hypnotized the wall opposite, her lips pressed to a thin line. When she spoke finally, her voice was rough and angry. “The bastard persuaded me to save his bitch first. He said it was how I could help him most. I brought her to safety and hurried back, but I was too late. He was already dead.”

Sam gulped at the thought of failing Dean so terribly. He pulled away, but couldn’t stop gazing at her. “That’s why you don’t change anymore?”

She looked at him finally. “Yes. I locked my powers because I didn’t see the reason why I should use them ever again. I failed. I’m not worthy of them. I locked them and threw the key away.”

Sam shuddered. Although he didn’t have an idea what exactly ‘locking the powers’ meant, he was sure it wasn’t anything he would have wanted to experience. “Don’t you miss them?” he asked sheepishly.

“Without Jesse there is no point in having them, anyway. No, I don’t miss them.”

Sam knew she meant it, but he still couldn’t imagine the enormity of the pain making a Protector willing to give up everything that made them who they were. “What about the…” his voice trailed off.

“The woman? As far as I know, she’s alive. I don’t know if she’s married or not, if she’s happy or sad, I don’t care. I saved her, she’s alive, that’s what Jesse wanted me to do and what I did for him. What happens to her now doesn’t interest me.”

Sam nodded. He could get that. Pamela’s Warrior was gone, anyone else be damned. That pretty much described how he felt about Dean. Dean was the only important thing in Sam’s world. Nothing else mattered.

Pamela patted his shoulder. “Okay, big boy. You can stay home today, but I recommend you to pull yourself together. You’re going to school tomorrow.”

Sam grimaced. “Do I have to?”

“Yes, you do,” Pamela said uncompromisingly. “No excuses. No matter what shit happens to you, life goes on. Deal with it, you have no other choice.”

Sam slept through almost the whole day and when he woke up in the late afternoon, it was in his dog form. Even though he felt good as a dog, more natural, it freaked him out a little that he could shift even without a conscious wish to do so. He sought Pamela out. She needed only a glance to get what the problem was.

“Don’t worry. A little bit of training will fix it,” she said unexcitedly, getting back to her business.

Sam spent the rest of the day outside, exploring the world as a dog. He followed various smells and tried to dig a hole under the fence around the salvage yard until Bobby caught him in the act and told him off, chased flies and discovered the joy of having a tail, then barked and howled curses no one except Protectors could understand until Pamela yelled at him to shut the hell up and go to bed if he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Sam knew what he wanted to do with himself too good. He wanted to run after Dean and to not come back without him. Ever. Instead, he was supposed to turn back and go to sleep. Easier said than done. Not only he wasn’t tired, but he had no idea how the whole changing forms worked. When he shifted so far, it simply happened; one second he was a boy, the other a dog. He whined for help.

Pamela sighed. “Concentrate. Find the reason why you want to turn back.”

Sam’s ears drooped in defeat. He didn’t want to turn. Not really. He felt good as a dog. Freer.

Pamela rolled her eyes. “Think of Dean, dammit. Do I really need to tell you everything? Can’t you figure things by yourself?”

Sam’s tail swept the floor lightly, his puppy dog eyes fixed at the other Protector in apology.

“Don’t give it to me, I can see right through you.”

He whined, lowering his head.

“Sam, I can’t help you. I don’t know how to help you this time. Things that worked for me may not work for you. You have to figure out your own way of handling things.” She glanced at her watch. “Time to go to sleep, young man.”

Sam snorted and ran up the stairs. Dog or not, opening the door wasn’t a big deal. He leapt on the bed and curled up.

He sighed. He felt good like this. More like himself.

He imagined Dean, what would he say when he saw Sam as a dog. He imagined him stroking Sam’s soft fur, scratching him behind his pointed ear, cuddling to the warm dog body. Sam imagined those hands touching him lovingly, petting, eyes shining with pride, mouth ready to kiss…

God, that mouth…

The kisses…

Sam shivered and looked at his human hands. Fine. Now he knew how to turn back. One problem solved, another one was hidden under the covers. Sam was already used to it. It tended to happen every time he fantasized about Dean’s mouth on his, about the softness of his lips, about the taste like no other…

Sam cherished the memory of his last birthday as the greatest treasure. He slid his hands under the covers, shutting his eyes tight and recalling the details of that day: the glimmer in Dean’s eyes as he bent over Sam in the park, the sun making his freckles stand out and torturing Sam with his desire to lick every single one of them. He remembered Dean’s scent so strong that day when he had arrived…

Sam moaned into the mattress as the pleasure his hands caused him reached the climax. He sighed contentedly, pulled the covers tighter around him, and let the sleep claim him.

He expected a true hell at school, but, surprisingly, being with other kids and doing something else than pitying himself felt refreshing and distracted him effectively from thinking about his misery (too much). The pain was still there. The separation hurt like bitch and sometimes Sam simply felt like ripping someone apart, but the feeling wasn’t as torturing as when he was alone. He tried to do the right thing and move on – to live. Mostly, he only survived the day, yet he kept telling himself it was enough for the beginning, that he’d do better the next day. He never did, but never ceased trying. For Dean. Dean was living his life and Sam was supposed to do the same until they were together again.

He waited patiently. He was a good dog after all…

He didn’t know that Dean was going through a very similar hell. Dragged from state to state, from town to town and from school to school, he accompanied their father on hunts, helping when he was allowed, ventilating his pain and rage on trapped and tied demons or other dark creatures that were restrained and therefore couldn’t hurt him. He hated torturing, but he liked finishing them off. He loved letting his anger out as he pierced their hearts, chopped off their heads or sent them right back to hell. There was some kind of a perverted satisfaction in all of that.

And then, there were girls, taking his mind away from the guilt he felt every time he thought of his brother, of the innocent kid whose love was so pure, who didn’t deserve to be defiled by someone as twisted as Dean even in his most secret thoughts. But even the pleasure the hot lips of a cute girl gave him couldn’t overpower the longing rooted deep in Dean’s heart. He was fucking her mouth, the amulet Sam had given him dangling around his neck and reminding him what he wanted and shouldn’t want. He wanted to take off the thing so many times, to stop the hurting, to forget… but he problem was he didn’t want to forget, not even when he was coming, biting his lip hard in order to not allow Sam’s name slip out into the cold, unfriendly world.

As he chanced a glance at the girl not on her knees anymore, wiping his come from her face, he noticed she was angry, he just didn’t know why.

“You should’ve warned me!”

“Fucking teenagers. No style, just rush,” she grumbled as she turned on her heel and marched away.

Dean looked after her confusedly. He was fifteen. She was just a year older. He tucked his junk back in his pants and went to find the nearest payphone.

Listening to Sam’s voice made him hornier than any girl with their cock-sucking lips and perfect curves ever could. He hurried back to the motel, hard again, and jerked off in the shower, chanting Sam’s name unashamedly into the splashing sound of the water. Good thing Dad was gone that night, Dean didn’t even know where.

Sam wasn’t very communicative on the phone. He always said everything was all right, the same boring routine (the little bitch liked to use Dean’s own phrases), but he could hardly fool his brother, who (as Dean thought) knew him better than anyone else in the entire world. Sam sounded different, Dean only couldn’t say whether good or bad different. He hoped for another visit at Bobby’s some time about Sammy’s birthday, but it looked like Dad decided to ignore it this year. Yes, there was a short call, the type Dean would rather have forgotten ever happened (“Happy birthday, Sammy. I need to talk to Bobby.”) and he didn’t even get to talk to his brother. Sam’s eleventh birthday totally sucked… Dean got to a payphone only three days later.

Sam wasn’t troubled. After the years, he kind of expected that Dean wouldn’t have a chance for a proper happy birthday wish. The thought that Dean didn’t forget about him was enough for him, he didn’t need more.

His birthday was on Sunday, a school-free day, and as a gift he was allowed to do whatever he wanted. He spent the day in the dog form, doing all the things dogs did – chasing his tail, barking at stray cats behind the fence, following interesting smells and trails, digging holes and basking in the sun, stealing Pamela’s breakfast and getting stuck under a car until Bobby freed him. He wasn’t even surprised when he got a collar with his name and the address of Bobby’s salvage yard engraved into a tag.

“You like spending time as a dog, then don’t attract unwanted attention as a stray dog,” Bobby said, and when Pamela handed him a leash, Sam’s jaw dropped in shock and he dashed into his room as if Hell itself was chasing him. When he came back, he was a boy again. Pamela and Bobby exchanged an amused smirk.

Sam glared, handing them the collar. “Dean’s name not on the tag.”

“Dean’s not here.”

“But I’m HIS dog.”

“All right.”

Next day Sam got a new tag with Dean’s name as his owner on it. As strange as it was, he loved wearing the collar. With the tag like that, he felt special and proud of that and also safer. Everyone who looked at the tag knew where he belonged and to whom he belonged, no chance to be mistaken.

 


	7. Sam, girls and cigarettes

 

Surprisingly, training while Sam was in his dog form was more enjoyable. Basically, it was about the things he was already good at, like tracking and running. And while he was a dog, he couldn’t shoot, which was the best thing of all.

Turning into a dog was never a big deal, he loved it and so whenever he thought he wanted to turn, he did. The change didn’t take more than a few seconds. He loved being a dog, so maybe that was the reason why it always went so smoothly.

Turning back was another story. It not only took him more time and concentration, but he always ended up hard and needy for Dean, who wasn’t there. It was embarrassing as hell and Sam was grateful for the privacy of his room whenever he turned back (and jerked off or fucked the mattress afterwards).

Summer was gone and John didn’t turn up in the salvage yard as Sam had hoped. His longing for Dean was stronger every day, and there wasn’t much to distract him when there was no school. The start of a new school year brought a little bit of relief, but Sam was so deep in it already that even school couldn’t help him to fight that heavy feeling in his heart.

Dean didn’t have it much different. The disappointment of the summer holidays left him sharper and angrier than ever before. He longed for killing, ripping, chopping, slashing… He longed for anything that could help him to forget his sinful thoughts. He longed for fucking, hard and rough, and there were so many souls willing to spread their legs for him.

But he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted it, there was this restrain, stopping him every time he wanted to sink into the soft body of a girl. He fingered her instead and jerked off later, cursing Sam and his captivating puppy dog eyes.

How perverted was it wanting to fuck his kid brother?

No one could say Dean didn’t try. But at the age of sixteen he felt already too tired and too old for the attempts to go and finally fuck a girl. Maybe that was the trick, having a chick simply didn’t work for him. Sam wasn’t a princess from a Disney fairy tale world, either…

First guy willing to give Dean what he wanted was a twenty-eight-year-old metrosexual. Not Dean’s type, but at least clean and gentle enough for the young, inexperienced boy to have his first sex.  The moment the guy’s hand touched his cock, Dean ran for his life.

He tried again, making out with a schoolmate from the school he currently attended, hidden from the curious eyes in the locker room after school was over. He let the guy blow him, no gentleness, no excuses, hands holding him firm. And it was all oh so good… Yet, Dean couldn’t come unless he imagined Sam on his knees in front of him, sucking him hard. Dean came, shouting Sam’s name into the silence in the locker room.

Since that time, the guy didn’t talk to him anymore.

Since that time, Dean stopped dating altogether. He found it pointless.

At the age of sixteen, Dad let him behind the wheel of the Impala, which was a big thing if you asked Dean. The first ride was to Bobby’s salvage yard, which was even bigger. John wasn’t much of a patient tutor, however hard he tried. Which wasn’t a big thing at all…

In the end, they reached the salvage yard successfully, Sam already waiting for them at the gate. Dean couldn’t suppress the huge grin that settled on his lips, hugging Sam as if he wanted to squeeze the life out of him. Sam didn’t owe him anything.

“Hey, you’re taller again,” Dean laughed, and it was the last thing he had time to tell his brother that day.

They both hoped for a chance to sneak away from the adults and enjoy the little time they had for each other. John stopped every attempt, making Dean stay and listen to Bobby’s lecture about some sort of a monster John was after while Sam was banned from the room in the meantime. They both sulked, but it didn’t help them a bit.

When the hunters were finally done with their research, John commanded Dean into the car and they were gone before Sam even realized what was happening.

That night Sam killed a cat.

The next night when John left Dean alone the boy left the motel room, went to a bar and got involved in a brawl. He barely managed to run away when things turned nasty. Bruised, with his lip split and all his muscles aching, he could call himself lucky he hadn’t ended up with a knife between his ribs. Back in the motel, he found John’s supply of whiskey and drank himself stupid.

John passed him painkillers without a word the next morning, but didn’t allow Dean to go back to bed. Instead, he forced him to go through the day as if he were absolutely all right. He didn’t even blink when Dean puked in a side alley and wished to die.

Things went from bad to worse and from worse back to bad after that. Dean had no idea how to keep the aggression building up within him under control. He was dreading the moment it would come out.

It was a relief when summer came again and Dean was told to drive to the salvage yard. But again, he and his twelve-year-old brother got only as much time as was enough to say hi, and Sam was commanded to pack his things, because John was taking him for the summer holidays while Dean was supposed to stay. Sam yelled he was going nowhere, John yelled he was whether he liked it or not. Sam yelled even more that he was staying, John shouted louder that he was going. It continued like that until Pamela’s intervention. After that Sam magically shut up and went with John without a word.

“What did you do?” Dean asked, baffled.

“Nothing. Just told him he should take it as part of his training,” Pamela said matter-of-factly, looking like it didn’t concern her at all.

“All right… So what now? Am I supposed to take this as a part of my training as well?”

She looked at him as if he was out of his mind. “It’s summer break for Christ’s sake. You’re supposed to relax and have fun. And leave me alone now, I have better things to do than listen to your whining.”

“Like basking in the sun?” he asked sarcastically, watching her turn her face to the sun as they stood in the yard after the Impala disappeared from their sight.

Pamela smirked, but didn’t answer.

It turned out Dean really wasn’t supposed to do anything but enjoy his holidays. He found out that strict house rules applied to him only when he was with Sam. Alone, he was free to take Bobby’s car and drive to the town if he wished to. Soon, he became a leader of one of the town’s youth gangs, hanging out, drinking booze when they got to some, smoking like locomotives and terrorizing other gangs. The fights never got as bloody as Dean was used to, but it felt like a good change. They weren’t bad kids, his gang or any other; they were just bored and didn’t know what to do with themselves. As for this, they were just like him. That was why he felt good in their circle. He even got himself a girlfriend, but didn’t get further than groping her boobs under her T-shirt when they were alone. Though, she obviously wanted more, Dean just didn’t feel ready to give it to her, thinking of Sam and Dad and whether they’d already managed to finish each other off.

Bobby gave Dean as much freedom as he wished for, wanting from him only to be back home on time and in case he wanted to stay at a friend’s house, he was expected to say so beforehand. Otherwise Bobby did get mixed up in Dean’s business and Dean didn’t even give him a reason not to trust him. He didn’t break the house rules and looked out for anything that could put him into trouble and violate that trust. The good thing was that Bobby never asked about his time out, except once when he asked if Dean had been smoking, which Dean denied, saying his friends had and that was why he smelled like a factory chimney. He felt bad about lying to Bobby afterwards, but it didn’t prevent him from smoking. He only reduced the number of smoked cigarettes.

As the summer dragged into its other half, Jenna, Dean’s girlfriend, started being more demanding. Dean knew exactly what she wanted and he started looking for excuses to stay in the salvage yard instead of going to the town to hang out with the gang. Sometimes he managed to find himself something to do or helped Bobby fixing cars or do research on some lore, but it couldn’t keep him busy all the time and it was starting to get suspicious that he didn’t spend as much time with the kids as he used to at the beginning of the holidays.

The rescue came in the form of his father bringing Sam back three weeks sooner than he was supposed to. Sam didn’t spare Dean a single look, running right into the house. A few seconds later Dean could hear the loud, angry slam of a door.

“Go and pack. We’re leaving,” John said to Dean, more growling than talking, looking absolutely pissed – pissed at Dean. The reason for which stayed a mystery.

Dean went to the room that had become his for the summer, but he found out it was locked. He knocked.

“Sammy? It’s me, open up.”

There was no reply, but Dean could hear the sound of opening and closing drawers and the rustle of things and clothes.

“Sammy, I need to pack. Open the door.”

Still no answer, but there was a violent crash of books falling on the floor.

“Fuck,” came from the other side of the door, leaving Dean to wonder when his little Sammy got familiar with such vocabulary.

“Sammy, open the door, please, and tell me what happened. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you all right,” sounded Sam’s choked voice. “Leave me alone.”

Dean blinked. _What?_ “Sammy, stop with the crap. I have to pack, we’re leaving…”

The door clicked and opened and Dean’s packed duffel bag was dropped to his feet. The door closed and there was the clicking sound of a key turned in the lock again.

“What the…? Sam! Open the stupid door!” Dean called. The answer was deep silence. “Talk to me, man.”

“Dean! Hurry up!” John’s voice echoed from downstairs.

“Sammy, please,” Dean tried once more, but to no avail. “Damn…” Dean bent for his duffel.  “All right, Sammy, I need to go now… I’ll see you…”

Yes, see… But when? After a year? Two?

No sound came from behind the door anymore and it stayed safely locked.

“Okay,” Dean said, still hoping Sam would change his mind and open the freaking door.

“Dean! How long am I supposed to wait?” Dean could hear suppressed anger and impatience in John’s voice. He wondered what had happened and why Sam behaved so weirdly.

“Okay,” he said once again, more to himself this time, turned around unwillingly, glancing at the door over his shoulder one more time, and walked down the stairs.

Outside, John was already sitting behind the wheel, the Impala’s engine rumbling. Dean climbed into his seat, not being earned a single look from John, whose lips were pressed tightly together. No, Dad wasn’t angry. He was _furious_.

He glanced at the window of Sam’s room as the car moved. He thought he glimpsed his brother looking out, but he wasn’t sure. Maybe he just wished for it too much…

Hours had passed and John hadn’t spoken a word, nor had he turned on the radio. Dean didn’t dare to speak first, didn’t try to ask what was wrong. He was sure he would find out in due time.

In the evening, they rented a motel room as usual. John still didn’t talk to Dean except the few necessary sentences about food. There was thick tension in the air which made Dean sick and worried him more the longer it lasted. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Dad?” he addressed John hesitantly. Everything was better than this silence. “Will you tell me what happened?”

The long intake of breath was the first sign that he should have kept his mouth shut. John turned to him slowly, looking much taller and sturdier than he really was, his eyes flashing with held back rage.

“What happened… right…” he said in a low, dangerous voice, recalling the scene from a couple of days ago. The past few weeks he had spent drilling Sammy how to survive in a hunter’s world. He had made him study old texts, scrolls and materials that were supposed to stay hidden from a common man’s eyes. He had showed him demons unable to leave a Devil’s Trap and exorcised, vampires drugged with Dead Man’s Blood and decapitated, ghosts losing their ties to the world of living after their remains had been salted and burned. He had made him memorize the exorcist formula. He had made him train shooting every single day. He had made him learn to use a knife in a combat. He had made Sam reach into himself and find his ruthlessness and aggression.

He could see Sam hated the training, hated staying in motel rooms, hated getting up early in the morning and crawling into bed in the middle of night. He hated watching the bloody scenes in front of his eyes, hated the smell of burned remains, and he hated being dragged all over the country in general. He was too soft and John wanted him to become rough in order to survive the hell outside his little world. He had been hard on Dean, but he was harder on Sam. Sam was the wanted prey here…

And then the day had come when Sammy had it enough. John hadn’t been sure what the kid had planned, but as he had come back from the type of hunt that even Dean was forbidden to go for, he had found a young German Shepherd in the room. The dog had glowered at him, eyeing the doorway in which John had been standing, Sam’s clothes lying scattered on one of the beds.

John didn’t need to be Sam’s Warrior to know who he had been facing. He had slammed the door shut and turned the key in the lock.

“Now turn back,” he had ordered.

The dog had growled.

“I said, turn back.”

The dog had growled darker.

John had made a step forward, jaw set, hands balled in fists. The dog had crouched, teeth bared, the fur on his neck standing. A low, menacing growl had sounded again.

“Sam,” John had addressed him strictly. “You won’t get out of this room until you turn back and I don’t care how long it takes. It’s your call,” he had warned, his eyes fixed on the dog.

Sam had stopped growling, raising his head a little bit and throwing John a suspicious glare. Before John could make another step in the dog’s direction, Sam had run into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him as he had jumped on it and pushed it close.

John hadn’t gone after Sam. He had collapsed tiredly into a chair, putting his head into his hands. No matter how hard he had tried, the gap between him and Sam had been growing…

Hours had passed which John had spent drinking, going through the notes in his journal over and over again, and worrying. It had been a mistake taking Sammy with him, especially if the boy had been so antagonistic. But Sam had needed to get to know the real world and learn how to survive in it. In general, the life span of Protectors had been very low lately…

But there was another thing that gave John creeps. Something he had to protect Sammy from even if it meant he would lose his son for good.

It had been late when the door of the bathroom finally opened.

“I don’t have clothes,” Sam had said. His voice had sounded higher than normal, but still firm and unwavering.

John had picked the clothes up from the floor where Sam had left them (and John hadn’t bothered to collect and put away) and brought them to the bathroom door. Through a gap between the door and the doorframe Sam’s hand had reached for the clothes and taken them in, shutting the door again and locking it this time.

It had taken him another hour to come out.

They had sized each other up, Sam throwing sheepish glances at John, but unable to resist a frown, John trying to stay calm.

“How long have you been shifting?” John had asked, trying not to sound intimidating.

“A while,” Sam had said, and he hadn’t looked intimidated at all.

“How long?” John had insisted.

“Long enough,” Sam had replied evasively, and he had been glaring now constantly.

“Don’t you dare to do it ever again. Do you understand? Never, Sammy!”

Sam had looked absolutely dumbstruck. “What?”

“You heard me. No shifting anymore, no dog manners, nothing like that anymore. Promise me!” John had insisted.

This time Sam had given him a horrified stare. “Dad…”

“Sam…”

But Sam had frowned, looking like he wanted to attack John. “No. You can’t forbid me THAT.”

“I can forbid you whatever I want,” John had snapped.

Sam had growled. “You can’t…” he had said through gritted teeth. “You have no power over me. You are not my Warrior.”

“What?” John’s temper had been betraying him. “Who told you that?”

But Sam hadn’t been listening to him anymore. “I want Dean,” he had said. “You want us apart. You don’t want us to be a Pair. But it will change. It will change as soon as Dean takes me with him!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Sam’s breathing had been quick, John could watch how his chest had been heaving in a rapid rhythm. The boy had stayed quiet, glaring at John furiously.

“Talk!” John had barked.

Sam’s eyes had narrowed. “One day Dean will come and take me away with him. From you. You won’t separate us ever again,” he had spat.

John had stared at his son as though he had seen him for the first time. “What are you talking about?”

“Dean will… he’ll take care of me. And I will of him. And you won’t… you won’t…” Sam had said, his voice betraying him. He had watched his father and he must have seen something terrifying, because he had been retreating into a corner, looking more scared then angry, as John had been coming closer.

“Are you telling me you will run away, Sam?” John had asked in a low, dangerous tone.

Sam had swallowed mutely.

“Answer me!” John had grabbed Sam’s arms and he had shaken with him a little.

“Ow!” Sam had whined and said nothing more.

“Did Dean tell you he’d take you with him?” John had gone on, looking into Sam’s frightened face. “Did he?”

“It hurts,” Sam had spoken, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes, but he hadn’t let them out.

“Damn you!” John had cried, outraged, and let go of Sam none too gently. “Are you insane? You’ve seen what’s out there! You won’t be able to survive a minute! And you want to run away? Are you completely out of your mind?” he had yelled, losing control over himself. “Do you wanna end up ripped apart? Do you want Dean to become a cripple just because you can’t stop the dog nonsense? Do you two really want to die so badly?”

Sam had cringed, wiping the treacherous tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt quickly.

“Pack. I’m taking you back to Bobby.”

Sam hadn’t needed to be told twice. He had hurried out of John’s reach and started gathering his things hastily, stuffing them into his duffel in formless knots. There had been something close to relief in his face.

The drive to the salvage yard had been filled with dead silence. Sam had occupied the backseat, showing John how little he wanted to have to do with him. It hurt like hell.

The thing that hurt more than Sam hating him was Dean’s betrayal. John had trusted Dean to be the reasonable one, a great hunter and a good son. Dean had never complained, never whined like a baby, never backed away from danger. He had done exactly what he had been told to do (except the few times he hadn’t and hurried into danger with the ruthlessness of a killer). Dean was perfect. He was the one John trusted with his life.

And now he found out Dean had been planning to betray that trust while putting his younger brother in mortal danger. When had Dean become so stupid? So reckless?

“Did you tell Sammy you’d run away with him?” he asked.

The slight wince didn’t escape his attention and the momentary widening of Dean’s eyes in recognition told him everything he wanted to know.

“How could you, Dean?”

Dean stayed quiet, but the guilt was written all over his face.

“How could you promise Sammy something like that while you know yourself he’s safest where he is? What did you want to achieve with it?”

“Nothing, Dad, I promise,” Dean said, his voice wavered a little.

“It’s really hard to believe,” John said and turned around. He needed air. He needed to get away from Dean before he did something he would regret. He hurried out of the room, locking the door behind him. 

Dean stayed alone, shit scared and shaken, finally understanding what had happened but also feeling deceived. He knew that Sam and Dad’s relationship was turbulent and not good at all, but he would never have dreamed that Sammy would reveal their secret so stupidly. _He must have been really pissed._ Now he understood why Sam had shut the door on him, why he hadn’t wanted to talk to Dean. And Dean couldn’t help but forgive his stupid little brother, because he loved him. Because even Dad couldn’t change that.

In the days, weeks, months to come he tried to reach Sam on the phone, but Sam obviously still didn’t want to talk to him.

“Fuck, Bobby, tell him that it’s okay, I’m not mad.”

“You watch your mouth and I will.”

Sam still didn’t come to the phone when Dean was calling and Dean slowly gave up. Gradually, he stopped calling, pleading, cursing, and leaving messages and started hunting, longing for blood, for the kill, for seeing suffering and terror in an enemy’s eyes when he slit their throat, cut their bodies open. He wanted to see them burn alive, all of them, to scream and beg for mercy that he was unable to show anymore.

In reality, things didn’t go as cruel as he wished. Dad was holding him back, forcing him to be reasonable, to do a clean job, not a bloody mess. Dean never opposed, and he was kind of grateful for that. His own thoughts were freaking him out, but they were better than thinking about the reason for the ever-present blunt pain in his chest.

He was antsy most of the time, argued with other kids and sought out fights. Cigarettes helped him to calm down a little bit, but he needed them more often. He didn’t like it, but he didn’t know what else to do.

John took a wind of what was going on, trying to speak some sense into Dean’s head. When it didn’t help, he used more persuasive methods. Dean’s cheek was burning for two days until the pain stopped and it took the bruise a week to disappear. He didn’t go to school during that week.

It felt good, the pain. It was sharp and real and calmed him down for a while. Not for too long, though…

He didn’t smoke during that week, either, but he missed cigarettes. Once the pain was over, he was on edge constantly, torturing his mind with thoughts of Sam and why he didn’t want to talk to him anymore.

He stole John’s booze and wanted to get drunk and die of alcohol poisoning. The problem was that he wasn’t able to get more than two or three gulps down his throat. Booze didn’t work for him, obviously… And because John stopped giving him pocket money, he saved the ones meant for lunch and when he had enough, he bought cigarettes, using a fake ID in case sellers didn’t believe he was of age. Many didn’t care, of course, as they were interested only in the money.

And there were the times when Lady Luck was on his side and he managed to steal a packet or two. Until the bitch said it had been enough and Dean ended up in jail.

Dad let him stew there the whole night and then a whole day and another night until he came for him.

“I hope it was a lesson for you,” he said on their way back to their motel room.

It turned out it wasn’t. Dean tried to be as stealthy with the cigarettes as he could, but he couldn’t mask the smell and the indefinable anger building inside of him. When he messed up John’s latest hunt with aggression surpassing everything from before, putting all his frustration and helplessness in the game, and almost getting them killed as he was unable to calm down and think, John lost his patience and took him to Bobby.

Dean sulked, but, on the other hand, for the first time in a long time he felt relief. And fear.

His eyes scanned the yard as he got out from the car, but there was no sign of Sam. No sign but the strong feeling of his presence. Sam was there somewhere, but he didn’t come to welcome his brother as he had used to.

 _Well, fuck him…_ Dean thought, hiding his annoyance.

For the first time he felt truly ashamed for being such a troublemaker when he met Bobby’s eyes after John left. He knew Dad had told Bobby about Dean’s constant anger and rebellion, he also knew that Bobby would understand him better than Dad. But it still felt like he had betrayed the only person who really cared about him and trusted him absolutely.

“Take your things upstairs and come to eat,” Bobby said, not commenting on Dean’s stay. He actually never did.

Dean knew what ‘upstairs’ meant.

“Can’t I stay in the living room?” he tried.

“Why would you want to stay there?” Bobby sized him up, crossing his arms on his chest.

Dean shrugged. “Sounds like a better idea.”

“Sounds like the idea of someone who’s sulking to me,” Bobby’s voice sounded patient. Not like Dad’s at all.

Dean frowned. “I’m not the pissed one here. Sam’s not talking to me.” And he didn’t care that he sounded stupid and whiny…

Bobby sighed. “You two should talk.”

“What about?” Dean snapped, glaring.

“About everything. Now go upstairs and leave your things in the room. Sam’s not there, you don’t need to worry.”

Dean snorted, but did as he was told.

The room looked exactly as he remembered it, clean and relatively tidy with bedside tables laden with books. Sam wasn’t there, but his personality breathed at Dean from every inch. This was Sam’s room and Dean felt like an intruder here. He remembered the times he and his brother had spent in this room, willingly or grounded, it didn’t matter, but together and happy and not afraid of each other. Dean used to love this room, but now he felt unwelcome here. His hand curled around the amulet hanging under his shirt. The memory of those times… He didn’t wear it on his clothes anymore. When he had understood Sam had had no interest in talking to him, he had wanted to take the thing off and get rid of it, but there was this unknown power preventing him from doing so. At least, he hid it from the sight of the rest of the world.

He dumped his duffel at the foot of the double bed and tried not to think about the night when Sam would lie next to him. The thought itself felt weird.

He ran down the stairs, almost bumping into Pamela.

“Hey, tiger!”

“Sorry.”

“Lunch’s on the table. Have you seen Sam?”

Dean gave her a suspicious look. “Are you making fun of me?”

“That’s also an answer…” She shrugged and entered the kitchen together with Dean to get some beer from the fridge. Bobby was sitting at the table, reading a newspaper. Dean sat down and started eating heated roast chicken, obviously from the previous day. He didn’t mind. It was a good change to pizza and burgers. There was silence in the kitchen, everyone seemed to be deep in thought… or waiting for him to speak first. The feeling of Sam’s constant invisible presence was driving Dean crazy.

“Can I go to town?” he asked when he was done with his meal. Pamela took the plate from him and washed it, glancing expectantly at Bobby.

“Why?” the hunter asked simply, not even raising his head from the newspaper.

“I want to see my friends.”

“With friends you mean Jenna? She called a few times after you left,” Bobby explained as he saw Dean’s surprised face. He had never mentioned the name of his girlfriend either to Bobby or Pamela.

“Maybe,” Dean said.

“I can take you to her house and back when you’re done,” Bobby offered, folding the newspaper.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Dean felt the well-known anger trying to come out.

“You proved you do.”

Their eyes met and Dean understood.

“Dad told you, didn’t he?”

“Yep. About smoking, stealing, getting busted… He told me some stuff.”

“And?” Dean was resisting the urge to glare.

“You should know that I hate limiting your freedom, but as long as you don’t convince me I can trust you, you’re not leaving this house without supervision.”

“Great,” Dean drawled sarcastically.

“Be glad. Sam has it worse,” Pamela mixed into the conversation.

Dean glanced at her before he looked at Bobby again. “You still won’t let him out of your sight?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Bobby exchanged a glance with Pamela before he spoke again. “That’s not our place to tell you. Ask your dad or Sam if you want to know.”

Dean waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t care.”

No one said anything to that.

“Can I go out to the yard at least?”

“Feel free.”

Dean walked out from the house and took a deep breath. He felt Sam close, but he was nowhere to be seen. Dean tried hard to convince himself he didn’t care, but he still kept looking around as he walked into Bobby’s garage. He sat down on a wooden table, letting his mind wander to Sam and his hiding.

From an inner pocket of his jacket he pulled out the only cigarette John had failed to find and confiscate and put it into his mouth. It wasn’t really the way to convince Bobby he could be trusted, but he didn’t have a lighter anyway, so he didn’t care.

The feeling of his brother’s presence became stronger. Dean didn’t need to turn around to know Sam was standing behind him.

“I’ve been wondering when you’d come,” he said, taking the cigarette out of his mouth.

Sam didn’t reply. Instead, he came up to the table and sat down next to Dean. He made sure his body didn’t come into contact with Dean’s, and knowing Sam’s ability, Dean was grateful for that. Sam didn’t need to know what a mess Dean was inside.

Dean glanced in his brother’s direction, seeing long legs in dark blue jeans, longer than he remembered them, and hands folded in Sam’s lap, big with long fingers, definitely not the hands of the kid Dean had known. And they were shaking. Sam was trembling and even though Dean avoided looking higher than Sam’s chest, he knew his brother was nervous.

“Are you still not talking to me?” Dean said again just to hear his own voice. Sitting like this was weird enough.

A violent tremble ran down Sam’s body.

Dean closed his eyes and counted to three. “So why are you here and pissing me off even more?” he asked after a few deep intakes.

“Don’t do it. Please, Dean, don’t…” Sam’s voice was small and unsure.

Dean looked him square in the eye. This was too much weirdness for one day. Sam’s eyes were fixed on him.

“What the hell is up with you? What am I not to do?”

“Cut me off,” Sam said simply and looked at his brother the way as if he was sure that Dean knew what he was talking about.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Don’t do it, please. I know I screwed up terribly and I’m sorry, but don’t cut me off. Give me one more chance, please.”

Dean blinked. “Are you high? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sam stared, looking like someone who just realized something. “Are you telling me you don’t know anything?”

“Depends on what you mean.”

“You don’t know about…?” Sam’s eyes widened and he looked kind of comical.

“About?”

“Dad has never told you what you are? What I am?”

Dean sighed, irritated. “You’re a weirdo. That’s what you are. Now can we skip to the point of this conversation? What do you want from me?”

Sam froze for a moment and then frowned. “You’re an idiot in the first place,” he snapped and climbed off the table. He glanced at Dean only once over his shoulder, his eyes asking whether Dean really wanted him to leave.

Dean stayed quiet; he didn’t want to give Sam that pleasure.

Sam gave a low growl. “By the way, you smell awful. It makes me sick,” he said sulkily, frowning at the cigarette in Dean’s hand.

“No one told you to follow me!” Dean retorted, scowling at Sam, who marched away hastily. Dean watched his brother with interest. Since he had seen Sam a year ago the kid grew up. He was much taller, the kid curves disappearing as far as Dean could tell, his steps were steadier but still lacking grace. Sam was turning into an interesting being…

Dean gave a loud, exasperated huff and bit into the filter of the cigarette angrily. He felt like breaking something. Maybe he could ask Bobby for some work. Obviously sitting here and sulking was only riling him up even more. He could be useful at least…

He broke the cigarette in two and dropped it on the ground. “Fuck you, Sam,” he cursed under his breath and left the garage.

Barely did he enter the house, the angry voice coming from the kitchen stopped him in the hall.

“… I thought Dad had told him. All this time and he had no clue! I was so afraid he’d cut me off and he doesn’t even know who he is! How come he doesn’t know?”

“What do you want to hear from me, Sam?” It was Bobby’s voice, sounding tired and bothered. “You’re angry and disappointed, I get that. It’s been a damn year, but you had million chances to make it right, so don’t whine to me and be a man.”

“I… I tried… It didn’t go well.”

“Jesus Christ, Sam! Then try again! Dean’s not going anywhere for a while. Keep trying until he forgives you.”

 _Good luck with that,_ Dean thought, ready to leave his hiding place, when Sam’s voice stopped him again.

“Shall I tell him?”

“I’m not telling him. It’s not my place to do so. I heard enough about the way I’m training you already, anyway.”

“Did Dad give you a hard time?”

Bobby sighed. “Nothing you should be worried about. Just… be careful about shifting, okay?”

Dean frowned. _Shifting? What the hell does that mean?_ He could hear the sound of a chair being dragged on the floor and he decided it was time to disappear. Besides, if he really smelled as awfully as Sam claimed, the bitch would notice his presence sooner or later.

The rest of the day was awkward. He and Sam were dancing around each other in a very strange rhythm, coming closer and then avoiding each other as if they were afraid the collision could cause an explosion of devastating measures. Pamela and Bobby went out of their way, but the tension between the two of them was affecting them as well.

Dean tried to persuade Bobby to let him sleep in the living room a few more times, but the hunter stayed adamant.

Going to bed was awkward as hell. When Dean came into the room after the shower, Sam was already in bed, his back turned to Dean’s side. Dean got under covers, showing his back to Sam as well.

“Good night,” Sam said quietly and squirmed nervously.

“G’night,” Dean muttered, closing his eyes. Memories started popping up in his mind, memories of the times when he and Sammy used to sleep tangled one in the other, looking for contact. Dean remembered Sam’s head resting on his chest, his keen ears listening to Dean’s heartbeat. He remembered how he used to play with Sam’s hair, stroke his back, hold him close just for the sheer joy of touching him. He remembered the time they had spent in the park on Sammy’s tenth birthday, the soft kisses, how close they were… Now Sam was thirteen, sleeping as far away from Dean as the bed allowed him. When did they become like this? _Why?_

With so many thoughts whirling in his head Dean thought he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, but suddenly it was morning and the bed next to him was empty. Not that it surprised him…

After he got dressed he went downstairs to the kitchen. He found Pamela there making breakfast and Sam sitting at the table with his head resting on his arms and obviously sleeping.

“Morning,” he said and motioned to the sleeping figure as Pamela turned to him.

“Oh, damn! Again? Sam!”

Sam’s head shot up, but sleep was still caught on his eyelashes. “What?”

Pamela shook her head. “Don’t be stubborn and go to bed, you look awful.”

“I’m fine.” Sam yawned and bit into a half-eaten toast.

“You’re far from fine,” Dean said. “Go to bed.”

Sam gave him a long look, definitely sleepy, but then he stood up without a word. As he did so, he swayed a bit. Dean didn’t even realize when he moved. The next thing he knew he was standing by his brother’s side, supporting him.

“I said I’m fine,” Sam growled, freeing himself from Dean’s protective arms and heading out from the kitchen.

“Bitch,” Dean muttered under his breath.

“Give him some time. He’ll come around eventually. Toast?” Pamela said, giving Dean a small, encouraging smile.

“Yes, thanks.” He took a deep breath. “I know he will. He wants to tell me something, doesn’t he?”

“Maybe,” Pamela said evasively.

“Well, he’s acting like a total dick right now.”

He half-expected her to tell him off for his vocab, but she only shrugged. “True. But it’s just because he doesn’t know how to start.”

“How about from the beginning?”

Pamela shrugged. “I’m not sure there really is a beginning. It’s more complicated than you may think.”

“It’s Sam. It should be simple.”

She frowned. “Sam’s not simple.”

“Always was to me.” He reached for the toast she put in front of him.

Pamela stayed quiet as though she were thinking about something.

“What does ‘cut off’ mean?” Dean asked, bringing her back to reality.

She smiled lightly. “That’s something Sam should explain.”

“He looked like he was about to shit his pants when he begged me to ‘not cut him off’.”

“Yes, ‘cutting off’ is downright scary.” Pamela poured herself some coffee. As she sipped from it, she purred contentedly.

“You’re not telling me,” Dean said matter-of-factly.

“Clever boy.”

“Fine. Can you tell me what shifting means at least?”

She laughed this time. “Go talk to your brother.”

Dean snorted. “Like he’s going to tell me anything…”

Pamela shrugged and silently enjoyed her coffee.

“What’s up with Sam? He looked like shit…” Dean went on.

She waved her hand. “Nothing serious. He just didn’t get much sleep last night. He fell asleep in the shower this morning after the run.”

“You’re still running?”

“Yep.”

It actually made Dean smile. It had been a nice routine… “Can I join you tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Pamela sipped from her coffee again, giving him a scrutinizing look.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She smiled. “You won’t get much sleep, either.”

“I don’t mind. I slept like a baby last night.” He grinned.

“I know.” She grinned back. “Sam watched over you the whole night.”

Dean stiffened. “Did he?”

“It shouldn’t surprise you, yet it does. You really should demand an explanation from Sam and make up with him as soon as possible.”

Dean made a bored face. “I can try.”

With Sam out of his way, Dean felt free but the emptiness he had felt the last year was screaming at him to be filled up again. Dean couldn’t do it, not yet, it was too soon, he was still too angry, and he knew that if he made a wrong step, the emptiness would stay there forever. He longed for a cigarette to help him calm down, but he didn’t have any.

He needed to do something, to occupy his hands and mind… Why the hell wasn’t Bobby like Dad and instead of letting him enjoy free time drilling him with some useful stuff? Dean sighed and sneaked to Sam’s jeep. 

The inside looked exactly as he knew it, nice and cozy, with a few books lying on the seats, a blanket covering the backseat and Sam’s sweatshirt hanging over the backrest of the driver’s seat. And a stack of paper tissues, some of them used and scattered on the floor.

Dean raised an eyebrow. Had Sam used them the way Dean thought he had and was about to use them the very same way?

He grinned a little and pulled the zipper of his jeans down. The hand on his cock was definitely the thing that could take his mind away from the smelly pleasure. Instead, he fantasized about hazel-green eyes and dimples, long legs and the body slowly changing from a kid’s into the one of an adult… Jesus, how could such a stupid, simple fantasy be so erotic?

He remembered the chaste kisses and wondered how that mouth would kiss today, how the big hands would feel on Dean’s naked skin, how the long legs would feel wrapped around him…

“Dammit!” he cursed as he came, the warm release staining his hand. He reached for the tissues and wiped it away, irritated with himself. God, how stupid could one be while jerking off to the images of their own brother making out with them? Dean didn’t do it for the first time. To be honest, picturing Sam doing The Things to him was much more exciting than imagining any girl doing them. He didn’t know why and he didn’t even want to. It was wrong. Perverted. And now, with his brother so close, it felt even more twisted, but also all the more exciting…

“Fuck you, Sam,” he said. _God, yes!_ his subconscious screamed. “Screw you!” _Let me be the one to do it to you, please!_

Dean lay on the back seat with his junk out and staring at the ceiling of the jeep. He longed for a cigarette more than before he came here. And for Sam… He longed for his stupid, ungrateful, treacherous brother. And it hurt and made Dean furious. He wanted a hunt, to kill something, to bath in its blood, and then come to Sam and make him sink on his knees and beg for forgiveness.

He gritted his teeth and zipped his pants. He got out from the jeep to look for Bobby. The hunter was in the garage, so it wasn’t like searching for a missing person…

“Hey, would you mind taking me to Jenna’s?”

“Do you want to pay her a visit?” Bobby asked, wiping his hands in a cloth.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Fine, get in the car. I wanted to do some shopping, anyway.”

The way to the town was nice and comfortable. The radio played some crappy music from eighties, but it fitted and after a very long time Dean _did_ feel calm.

“Listen, Dean,” Bobby started suddenly. Dean looked at him, trying to read in Bobby’s face, but he failed.

“Yes?”

“I let you decide what you want to do with your free time, I’m not going to train you unless you ask for it, but I noticed you’re kind of lost here. I think a routine would work for you. If you want, we can discuss it. Plus I have an offer for you.”

“What offer?”

“You could help me in the garage. It could be your summer part-time job. I’d pay you for that, of course. What do you say?”

They glanced at each other. It wasn’t just a feeling, Bobby really understood Dean better than anyone else. Knew exactly what the boy needed.

Dean grinned. “I’m all for it.”

Bobby smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. Now let’s talk about the money. Would two dollars for an hour of work be enough for you?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t care, Bobby. I just want to do something useful.” His grin got even wider.

Bobby nodded appreciatively. “Good. Two dollars then. But I have to warn you. If I find out you spend the money on some crap, you won’t get a penny anymore and there’ll be consequences.”

“Got it,” Dean said, very well aware of what Bobby was talking about. “When can I start?”

“Whenever you want.”

“When I return from Jenna’s?”

“Works for me.”

“Deal!” Dean grinned and looked out from the window.

Bobby dropped him off in front of Jenna’s house. Dean had never been inside before and he hoped he wasn’t going to break the habit. He was sure Jenna’s parents weren’t much of fans of his. To be absolutely honest, he wasn’t sure Jenna was still his fan since he had disappeared from her life a year ago without a word.

“It won’t be so bad,” Bobby said to him encouragingly as he saw Dean’s hesitation.

Dean took a deep breath and nodded.

“I’ll pick you up in an hour. Is that okay for you?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I’ll need more,” Dean answered and got out of the car.

He walked to the door slowly, throwing the last glance at Bobby over his shoulder. The hunter started the engine and pulled the car on the road. Dean bit his lip and rang. He could hear hurried footsteps behind the door. It was Jenna herself who opened, looking absolutely perplexed as she saw him.

“Dean!”

She looked the same as he remembered her, short ginger hair, pinkish shade in her cheeks and green eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Hey,” he said and smiled. “You’ve been waiting for someone else.”

“Actually yes. Paul said he’d come, but the asshole is late again. Do you want to come in?”

“Do you want to come out?” he asked with hope.

She chuckled and slipped into her favorite boots. It didn’t change, either…

She walked with him along the road, all smiles and giggles.

“How come you’re not mad at me?” Dean asked, confused with her heartfelt behavior.

“Oh, I was at first. I called your house and your uncle or whatever the guy is to you told me that your old man came unexpectedly and took you with him.”

Dean nodded. “That’s true.”

She shrugged. “I told myself that waiting for you was pointless and got together with Paul.”

“Paul?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, Jenna, but I thought you had a better taste in guys.”

“Asshole,” she slapped his arm playfully and they both laughed. “You can be envious of my taste.” She stuck her tongue at him. “Anyway,” she continued after a while, “I’m breaking up with him.”

“Are you?”

“Yes. It was a bad idea…” She glanced at him. “Don’t you wanna continue from where we left off?”

He grinned. “What now? You haven’t even split up with poor Paul.”

“Shut up.” She frowned. “I’m working on it, okay? If you’re not interested, just tell me. I can handle a refusal, I won’t break.”

“I never said that,” Dean smirked. “And I’d love to get my girl back.”

She gave him a wide smile. Next thing Dean remembered was the kiss he gave her (which she reciprocated eagerly) and Sam’s face popping up in his mind, damn the pouty (not so) little bitch… Jenna was supposed to bring him relief, but her presence made him even more confused and desperate… The longing he tried to bury so deep inside was coming out, and it wasn’t longing for her tasty lips or skillful tongue, for the touch of her bare skin or her curves. Dean wanted all that from someone he couldn’t have and Jenna was just a substitute… He was a terrible boyfriend…

“Is something wrong?” she asked curiously, scrutinizing his face.

He forced himself into a smile. “Nothing.”

They talked about common stuff after that, about the gang and the kids from there, made fun of people living in the town, of Jenna’s parents, of Paul and his kissing technique. Dean avoided talking about his year out of Sioux Falls, about Dad, and he definitely didn’t want to talk about Sam. Actually, no one in their gang had a clue he had a brother. Sam was his secret and he wanted him to stay a secret.

When Bobby came for him after an hour, Dean felt kind of grateful. Jenna was fine, yes, but she started boring him after some time. They kissed a bit more, than she pulled out a cigarette, offering to share with Dean, and he so would have accepted the offer, but the words ‘You smell awful’ were still resonating in his ears and he didn’t want to think of what Bobby would have said if he had found him smoking. So he declined and kissed her again just to feel that tobacco taste he was addicted to. 

Back in the salvage yard, the first thing he saw was Sam standing by the gate, eyes wide, his chest heaving in a rapid rhythm, his hands fisted and twitching. Pamela was standing in the yard, her arms crossed on her chest.

“Some trouble?” Bobby asked as he got out from the car as he parked in front of the house.

“Nah, only a small freak out,” Pamela said matter-of-factly.

Dean glanced at his brother coming back and looking embarrassed. Did Sam get frightened that Dean had left?

Sam avoided meeting Dean’s eyes as Pamela commanded him inside. He even looked relieved that he could escape Dean’s scrutinizing look.

“Can we start in the garage?” Dean asked Bobby, pretending the little episode didn’t interest him at all.

“Sure, let’s go.”

In the garage, Bobby showed Dean what to do and how to do it and left him, going into the house as well. Dean wondered whether it had something to do with Sam and his ‘small freak out’. Bobby came after some time, letting Dean do most of the work. Dean loved being useful. He totally forgot about Jenna and her cigarette tasting kisses. He was reminded only when Sam sneaked into the garage and occupied the bench by the wooden table. Dean felt nervous under Sam’s watchful eye as if Sam could see into the deepest corners of his heart and reveal the dark secrets hidden there. So Dean ignored him, just like Bobby did. Sam was throwing shy glances at Bobby from time to time, but the hunter’s attention was on the car he and Dean were fixing. Sam didn’t say anything for the whole time and he left the garage only when Dean did after a couple of hours.

Sweaty, dirty and happy with a few more bucks in his pocket, Dean turned up in the kitchen. He half-expected Pamela to kick him out of there, but she invited him for dinner instead. Sam disappeared upstairs, and as longs as no one cared about his absence, neither did Dean.

“You look better. More content,” Pamela said, sizing him up.

“Huh?” Dean looked up from his plate.

“Messy, but not like the broken Ken doll that came here yesterday.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said uninterestedly.

“Of course,” Pamela said sarcastically.

“Can I ask you something?” Dean spoke again after a while.

“Try.”

“What was the freak out about?”

The look she gave him was nothing Dean knew, it wasn’t serious, mysterious or curious, it was neither cold nor warm, neither sad nor happy, neither strict nor kind, but more piercing.

“You really should talk to your brother,” she said at last.

Dean frowned. “Why do you keep telling me that? It wasn’t me who shut the door on him. I’m here, he can come to me whenever he wants. I’ll even listen. I think I deserve an explanation after all.”

Pamela’s eyes narrowed. She rested her hands palms down on the table, supporting her weight on them, and leaned closer toward Dean. “What do you think I’ve been telling your brother for over a year now? Every time you called I was trying to persuade him to take the freaking phone and talk to you. But the foolish kid is frightened and you are asking why. If you want answers, if you care enough about them, about your brother, you’ll find the way to talk to him. He needs encouragement and he needs it from you.” 

They were staring at each other like two opponents, waiting for the other one to say something, to end the tense moment, but neither of them wanted to be first.

“Fine,” Dean said in the end, scowling. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks,” Pamela said and the corners of her mouth lifted in a small smile. “That would be extremely appreciated.”

Deans snorted and left the kitchen. Pamela was too much for him sometimes. She could force her will on people. Who did that, for Christ’s sake? Weirdos! Weirdos did that.

Dean headed upstairs, thinking about what he had just heard. Talk to Sam. Yeah. Easier said than done. Although Dean wondered what Sam’s problem was, he didn’t want to save Sam from breaking the ice first. He had his dignity. Sam was responsible for this shit, so Sam should say the first word.

Fine, but how to achieve that? Dean was pretty pissed with the whole situation as well. He wanted the old times back. He wanted his cuddly little brother again. But what should he do in order to stop the little bitch from hiding in corners and make him open his sweet, bitchy mouth?

He entered the room he shared with Sam. His brother was sitting on the bed, his back propped against the headboard, and was reading some old book. Dean noticed the stiffness in his shoulders as he walked in and the way Sam held the book a little bit higher as if he wanted to hide behind it. Dean didn’t tell him a word. He stepped up to the bed and dug his pajamas out from under his pillow. Then he left for the bathroom, cursing Sam for being such a stubborn ass.

This definitely needed something to get a reaction from the idiot. Something that would make Sam look Dean in the eyes finally. But what?

As Dean undressed in the bathroom, a brilliant thought crossed his mind. _Oh, this would be both pleasant and funny!_

He made himself comfortable in the bathtub. Listening to the calming sound of the running water, he leaned against the cool metal of the tub and closed his eyes. The sensation of the water made him feel nice and relaxed. His legs bent in knees opened to his hand stroking his cock lightly, the images of Sam’s lean, adolescent body flashing in Dean’s mind.

This time Dean didn’t feel guilty. He always came faster and harder when he thought of the bitch and that was the point. He grinned maniacally as he remembered Sam’s reaction from years ago as he could smell the last bits of the odor of Dean’s come that even water and soap hadn’t managed to wash away. Sam couldn’t keep his hands (and nose) away from Dean that time. What would he do now?

The memory of the past and the curiosity about the present was exciting. The little Sam wanted Dean badly. Who knows what he would have done if Dean had let him… But the question was what the present Sam would do. Had he learned more self-control? Or would he jump Dean the moment he smelled him? Would he try to bury his nose in Dean’s skin? Or would he run away?

What would Dean do if Sam wanted to get into his pants?

Dean groaned and grabbed his hard dick firmer, the hand working him more thoroughly.

He would have let Sam… He would have let him slip his long fingers under the waistband of Dean’s pants, he would have let him slide them down gently, hot palms stroking Dean’s hips. He would have let Sam press his nose to his crotch and take a deep breath of Dean’s odor. He would have let his brother do anything to him Sam would have wished to do…

Dean gasped as orgasm started rippling through his body, come spurting on his chest and belly. He stroked himself through the aftershock and even a bit longer until he finally relaxed, resting his head on the wet edge of the bathtub.

He gave a long sigh. It was fast. Too fast. Another reason to be pissed at Sam. Another reason to feel like a total freak… Yet, Dean couldn’t help it. The more he thought of his brother, the more he longed to be the one and only for the little bitch. To own his soul… and body. To be able to say ‘he’s completely mine’. He didn’t know where those feelings came from, he had been trying to keep them in check for years already, and mostly he had been able to with Sam hundreds of miles away and with monsters to kill, but with nothing that would have pumped him high on adrenaline effectively and with Sam living in the same house and sleeping in the same bed as Dean’s things were getting kind of complicated.

He sighed again and climbed out from the bathtub. He dried himself quickly and pulled his pajamas on. Taking a deep breath, he walked out from the bathroom. He stood at the door of his and Sam’s room and listened, but no sound was coming from inside. Dean pushed the handle and opened the door.

Sam was still sitting on the bed, his long legs stretched in front of him, and was reading the same old book. As Dean stepped in, he raised his head from the book, and his nostrils flared subtly as he breathed in. His eyes went wide, his pupils big and round in the dim light coming from the lamp on the bedside table, leaving just thin bright circles of irises around them. Sam opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something, but everything that came out was a choked whine.

Dean sniggered inwardly. Trying to look uninterested, he walked to the bed. Sam was watching him the whole time, the tension in his body was too obvious to overlook. He shut his mouth, hands gripping the book with such force Dean thought the poor thing was not going to survive this evening in one piece.

Dean reached the bed and climbed on it; Sam shifted on the very edge of it, gaping at Dean with terror in his wide eyes… and there was also something more, something that was turning Dean on.

Dean sized his brother up, noticing the bulge in Sam’s pajama bottoms, and his mouth watered. If only… If only Sam… What if Dean…? What would happen…? If he reached out, what would Sam do? If he tried…?

“What’s up, Sam?” Dean asked nonchalantly, but he could hardly stop that rapid heaving of his chest, calm down his heart beating crazily.

Sam’s eyes glittered dangerously, the upper lip rolling up slightly, revealing the white teeth. “You motherfucker,” Sam growled, still not moving, looking daggers at Dean.

“That’s how you talk to your big brother?” Dean wanted to get under the covers, but realized Sam was sitting on a part of his comforter. He wanted to pull it from under the bitch’s nice butt, but as he reached for it, Sam misunderstood Dean’s action and screamed in a unnatural high-pitched voice “Don’t come closer!”, trying to get away from Dean’s reach. He forgot about the edge of the bed and fell down on the hardwood floor with a loud thud, banging his head on the bedside table in the process.

“Ow…” he whined.

Dean moved on Sam’s side of the bed hastily, looking over the edge. “Are you okay?” he asked with panic.

“No,” Sam growled as he was getting up from the floor, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. “I hate you.”

Dean noticed that even the painful collision with the piece of the furnishing didn’t help Sam make his dick behave. “No, you don’t,” he said, giving Sam’s crotch and amused look.

Sam turned red and ran out of the room. Dean laughed, snuggling into the soft sheets.

It took Sam quite some time until he came back, his hair wet and his skin smelling of freshness. The bulge in his pants was gone. He got to bed gingerly as though he was afraid Dean could bite him or something. He was tense as fuck, occupying the very end of the bed as far from Dean as he could.

“Better?” Dean asked with a yawn.

“Jerk.  You did it on purpose,” Sam growled over his shoulder.

“Uhm,” Dean grinned, sighing contentedly into his pillow. “Bitch.”

Sam’s answer was a soft sigh.

 


	8. Finding Out

 

In the morning, when Pamela came to wake them up for the morning run, she found them cuddled up to each other; Sam’s nose was pressed to Dean’s shoulder and his arm was outstretched over Dean’s chest while Dean had his nose buried in Sam’s hair. Blissfully unconscious, they were reaching for each other, but when the reality penetrated their dreams, they both bolted out of bed as if they were stung by something nasty. Dean started looking for his clothes while Sam hurried out from the room. As Dean chanced a glance at him, he noticed Sam was hard again. That explained that solid something poking him in the hip the whole night…

It took Sam a fair amount of time until he joined Dean and Pamela, who were waiting for him impatiently in the yard. His face was flushed and he avoided looking at either of them.

Sam was a damn fast runner, but Dean managed to keep pace with him. Not for long, though… Sam wasn’t only fast, but he was tireless as well, which Dean couldn’t say about himself. He returned sooner than Pamela and the kid and enjoyed the possibility of taking bath, undisturbed. Then he moved his ass into the garage where he was given some work from Bobby. After some time Sam sneaked there too, silent and sheepish, and sat down at the table. Both Bobby and Dean ignored him.

Later, Bobby needed to deal with something, so he told Dean what to do and left. Sam hadn’t moved from his place the whole time, watching Dean struggle with the tubes and cables under a car’s hood.

“Wanna be useful?” Dean asked after some time when he failed to reach the spot he needed.

Sam straightened up. “What do you want me to do?”

“C’mere.”

Sam walked to the car, trying to control his eagerness, but the twitch in his hands and the spark in his eyes gave him away. He peeked under the hood curiously.

“I need you to hold these,” Dean said and pointed at a knot of cables. Sam reached for them, holding them the way Dean needed him to in order to remove a broken component hidden under them. He needed to use a bit more force than he expected for which the car decided to have its revenge and spurt some oil at him. Dean was quick enough to duck, but Sam, who didn’t expect it, got a full blast in his face.

Dean looked at his brother. Sam’s dumbstruck expression was worth a million dollars and was even more comical with the oil smudges decorating Sam’s face. Dean couldn’t hold a roar of laughter that wanted out so badly. Giggling like an idiot, doubled over the engine, he was struggling for air.

“Jerk,” he heard an angry voice. Sam was trying to wipe the car oil from his face with his hands, but ending up smearing it even more.

“Having fun?” As Bobby’s clear voice sounded in the garage, Dean finally caught his breath, but didn’t have time to say anything to Sam as the younger boy, totally furious, stormed out from there. Bobby raised an eyebrow at that. “Shall I ask?”

Dean shook his head, but the suppressed laughter was still tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The day went by in relative peace. Sam didn’t come back into the garage and Dean didn’t even see much of him until the evening.

Sam turned in quite soon, but no one questioned that so neither did Dean. When he entered the room after a long, refreshing shower, he found Sam in bed and looking like he was already asleep.

“Sammy?” Dean whispered. In case he was right, he didn’t want to wake Sam up.

Nevertheless, the answer came immediately. “What?”

Dean climbed in bed next to his brother, meeting the hazel eyes watching him.

“Hey, man, I’m sorry for today. It was an accident,” he said as he lay down.

Sam sighed. “I know.”

“Do you?” Dean asked with a hint of reproach.

“Yeah.”

“So why did you get pissed?”

Sam took a deep breath, suddenly looking fully awake. “I’m constantly pissed, Dean. I’ve been pissed ever since last summer…”

Dean frowned. “At me?”

“You, me… Dad. Everyone.”

Dean propped himself on his elbow and put his head in his hand. “Why?”

The intensity of Sam’s gaze made his insides turn upside down. He would have looked away, but the feeling that if he had done that, he would have missed something important prevented him from doing so.

“Because…” Sam broke the silence that settled between them for a moment, “because Dad took you away from me. He brings you here only for a while, but he doesn’t like when we spend time together. And then he takes you away when I least expect it… and you don’t mind, you don’t say anything, you just obey like a brainwashed soldier…”

There was no heat in Sam’s tone, not even accusation despite his words, just cold resignation. Hearing it hurt like shit…

Sam didn’t stop looking at Dean and maybe that stopped the older boy from saying anything.

“I can’t take it anymore, Dean,” Sam whispered, and that was the moment when his voice broke. He looked away quickly. “I can’t take seeing you leaving me behind ever again. If you do it, I don’t want to be there…” Tears came out and even wiping them away didn’t help Sam to stop them.

“If you saw that, it would make you even more pissed,” Dean said quietly, finishing what Sam couldn’t. “You would pick on Dad or me and it wouldn’t end pretty.”

Sam nodded, rolling on his back and gazing at the ceiling.

“Sammy, you’re not alone. I feel the same. I’m so furious sometimes that I don’t know what to do with myself. That’s why I… you know.”

The confession captured Sam’s attention. “That’s why you smoke. It calms you down,” the younger boy said.

A light smile spread across Dean’s face. “Yeah. Pretty stupid, isn’t it?”

Sam wiped the tears from his eyes one more time before he smiled back at Dean. “Maybe. Does it help you to control your anger?”

“Yeah. Mostly. When I smoke a lot.”

“You’re a freaking cigarette addict.” Sam shifted a bit closer, the smile still present on his lips.

Dean sniggered. “I’m not arguing.”

“Though, you haven’t smoked since…”

“Since you told me I smelled awful. It hurt, you bitch, but hit the right spot.”

“I hope so,” Sam said, closing his eyes. “I’m tired…”

“May I ask you one more question?”

“Uhm…”

“The very first day, when Bobby took me to the town, you freaked out. Was it because you were afraid I was not coming back?”

Sam breathed out, fixing his eyes on Dean again. “Stupid of me…”

“A little. But I can’t blame you. I would be the same in your place.”

“Can I ask you something as well?”

“Go ahead.”

“Do you miss cigarettes?”

Dean bit his lip. “Yeah. A lot.” And he wasn’t proud of it.

“Will you go back to smoking when Dad takes you away with him?”

Dean felt the answers were important to Sam. “I guess,” he answered truthfully.

Sam fidgeted. “Will you smoke while you’re here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

Sam nodded approvingly. “Will you hold my hand?” he asked suddenly.

Dean blinked. He knew what it meant. “Uh… Are you sure you wanna risk it?”

“I’m not risking anything. I know you’re a mess. So am I. No big deal,” Sam muttered into his pillow. “Please, hold my hand…” He was begging now like a kid needing to make sure he was not going to be left behind.

“Sure,” Dean capitulated, reaching for Sam’s hand and squeezing it lightly.

Sam gasped at first, but then he gave a long sigh, closing his eyes.

Dean felt his ever-present anger slowly dissipating and being replaced by the immediate relief slowly spreading through his body and gradually filling his mind. He felt calmer than any time during the past year. Sam was bringing him more comfort than any cigarette ever could, just through the simple touch he eased the pain and silenced the remorse.

Sam, indeed, was an amazing being.

The morning wasn’t as awkward as the one before, partly because there was some kind of truce between them and partly because they didn’t wake up cuddled to each other like big teddy bears.

The run was refreshing and nice, Sam kept his pace with Dean even sent Dean a small, unsure smile from time to time. The day couldn’t start better.

Later, when Dean helped in the garage, Sam came again, watching Bobby and his brother silently as usual and, as usual, Dean and Bobby ignored him. In the afternoon Bobby had some work in his office (meaning the living room), so Dean had to find something to do. Sam meanwhile retired into his shelter (meaning the old jeep) with the old book of his. Dean decided to join him.

He occupied the passenger’s seat, partly because Sam was sprawled over the backseat, leaving no room for anyone else to cram beside him, and partly because this way it was easier to talk to him.

“Hey,” he said, glancing at Sam’s reflection in the rearview mirror.

“I’m pissed at you, you know,” Sam stated matter-of-factly, turning a page in his book. Dean wondered what the book was since Sam tended to carry it with himself and read it constantly for as long as Dean could remember.

“What are you pissed for? What did I do this time?” Dean put his feet on the dashboard and watched Sam in the mirror.

Sam rolled his eyes and stuck one of his long legs from an open window. “Not this time. Last time,” he said casually.

Dean understood. “You can still smell it?”

“You left the used paper tissues on the floor. Of course I can still smell it.”

“Yours were there, too. So what’s the deal?”

Sam glared. “Mine don’t make _you_ crazy.”

Dean grinned and turned in the seat to look at his brother. “Did you jerk off?”

“Shut up.” Sam poked his nose into the book again.

“I take that for yes.” Dean sniggered. “If they irritated you so much, you could throw them away.”

“I’m not touching your come-stained tissues.”

Dean grinned maniacally. “Do they tempt you? Are you hard again?”

“You’re an asshole,” Sam grumbled.

“Love you too.” Dean turned around and relaxed in the front seat, glancing into the rearview mirror. The blush Sam was trying to hide behind the book didn’t escape his eye. They were silent for a while until Dean asked, “What is that book you’re still reading?”

“Uh…” Suddenly, Sam looked unnaturally self-conscious. “Well… It’s… It’s nothing interesting.”

“Isn’t it?” Dean turned to Sam again. “Is that why I don’t even remember you reading anything else?”

Sam closed the book reverently. “It… helps me to understand things…”

“What things?”

When Sam looked at Dean, there was uncertainty in his eyes. “Read it,” he said, handing the book to Dean.

“What? Why?”

Sam took a deep breath. “Because… Just because.”

“Um… all right…” Dean reached for the book. The moment he held it securely in his hands, Sam let go and hurried out from the car as though something had stung him in the butt. Dean shook his head at his brother’s strange behavior and looked at the book. “The Legend of Protectors…  All right, then. Let’s see what it’s about…” he muttered and started reading.

The longer he was reading, the more confused he was. His mind was refusing to get what Sam was trying to tell him with this. Dean read about Protectors, finding particular similarities with Sam, but… hey, Sam WAS weird… but he wasn’t SUCH a weirdo… was he? And… those Warriors and their relationships with their animal spirit counterparts… No, it wasn’t possible… was it? The way Sam always reacted to Dean, the way Dean felt empty and sick right to his core when they were separated, how both of them felt their place was at each other’s side – it couldn’t be this kind of thing, could it? How come Dean had never heard about it? How come Dad had never allowed him to discover those things? How come Bobby and Pamela had never explained the oddity of his and Sammy’s life? And most importantly, why the hell had Sam never mentioned it to Dean?

Oh… right… Sam had thought Dean knew and understood. But how could Dean know anything if everyone just let him think that things were normal? That there was nothing to know?

_Maybe there wasn’t. Deep down, you have always felt that what you and Sam have is something special._

But if Warriors and Protectors were supposed to live their lives close to each other and fight together, why had Dad separated them and allowed them to spend just a very little time together? Was it possible he had no clue? Dean kind of doubted that. And yet he knew that the next time he was going to see their father was going to be the time when he came to take Dean away from Sam again.

Dean closed the book. He hadn’t finished it yet, but there was already too much for him to think about.

When he got to bed that night, it was already late. He found Sam sound asleep with his hands reaching to Dean’s side as if he was looking for his big brother in his dreams. Dean took a quick shower and got to bed. The moment Sam could feel his presence he snuggled up. Dean sighed and hugged him. As uncomfortable as it could be, he still slept better when he could feel Sam’s body pressed to his.

The next day, Sam mostly got out of his way, but didn’t avoid him completely. Dean could feel his presence constantly, whether he continued reading the book or worked in the garage. It was okay at first, but Sam seemed to be at his heels even when Dean visited the bathroom… and that was downright embarrassing. Dean knew what Sam wanted. He was dying with curiosity about Dean’s reaction to all that Warrior-Protector stuff. To be honest, Dean had no idea what to think. On one hand, the whole thing didn’t feel so stupid, on the other… Animal spirits? Seriously???

He longed for a cigarette; a deep drag of smoke into his lungs, and then slow exhalation, peaceful and easy, nicotine calming down the anxiety.

He wanted Jenna and her cigarette-favored kisses.

He wished to get away from the salvage yard, from the feel of Sam’s curious eyes following him everywhere.

He needed to be in touch with normalcy for a while…

He sought out Bobby and asked him for a ride to the town. Instead of doing that, the hunter handed him the keys from his car.

Dean looked at them uncomprehendingly. “You said…”

“I know what I said. Now take them before I change my mind,” Bobby said and returned to whatever he was doing.

Dean took the keys and hurried away, feeling Sam’s eyes on his back. He needed to escape them before he did or said something stupid.

He relaxed only when he could see the gate of the salvage yard in the rearview mirror. He turned on the radio and listened to the country music coming from the speakers… He didn’t even try to change the station, though it wasn’t what he liked.

Jenna wasn’t home, but he had no problem finding her with the rest of their gang. Dean was accepted back with handshakes and amicable slaps on his back. The old friends filled him in on the events of the last year, although he already knew about them from Jenna. A bottle of some cheap alcohol was passed around, and Dean took a swig at the beginning, but then he passed the bottle further without a second look at it. Someone offered him a cigarette, but he declined, not bothering with an explanation. His choices were none of anyone’s business, anyway.

The whole time Dean had a feeling that someone watched him. And it definitely wasn’t Paul, who threw envious glances at him every time Jenna leaned into Dean or gave him a sweet smile. It felt like Sam, actually, which was totally ridiculous. Sam was back in the salvage yard, right? How could he have gotten here, anyway? Would he have run along the road? Dean almost laughed out loud when he thought about it. No, it couldn’t be Sam; it was simply impossible.

So what was it, then?

The feeling got stronger when Jenna pulled him a bit further from the group to make out. Her kisses tasting like cigarette smoke and alcohol were exactly what Dean needed right now. He needed something to take his mind away from Sam and the way Dean’s younger brother had looked at him with fear and hope when he had handed his book to Dean. His eyes had been pleading for understanding, Dean got it now.

Dean deepened the kiss and Jenna sighed excitedly (maybe because he had his hands on her small, round ass for the first time in their dating history). It was good to know she was his. He could have her, she was willing to give herself to him, and all he needed to do was to take her. They could go somewhere private. Dean would have pressed her to a wall, undone her pants and showed his hand into her panties, and she would have let him. He would have fingered her until she would have come. Then he would have stripped her lower parts and freed his cock, hooked one of her legs around his waist and slid into her. He would have fucked her slowly and sweetly.

It would have been safe.

It would have been easy.

It would have been natural.

And yet he wasn’t interested. His dick was blissfully oblivious to the efforts of his tongue in Jenna’s mouth to arise some excitement. The treacherous skillful muscle was more interested in the taste of cigarettes than in anything else. Dean’s hands on Jenna’s ass weren’t doing a good job either. They were there just because they were more than reluctant to slip under her T-shirt a bit higher and touch the bare skin above the waistband. If Dean wanted to be absolutely honest, Jenna was a smart, pretty and interesting girl who just didn’t attract him as much as he wished. Even when he jerked off, it wasn’t the thought of her that helped him to get his cock ready for some action.

The feeling of Sam watching him got stronger, and Dean blamed it on his inability to play with his girlfriend’s breasts at least. He liked the softness of her beauties and she loved the heated touch of his palms in her bra. He knew that if she hadn’t loved him, he wouldn’t have been allowed even to look at her in a way she would have considered inappropriate. She wasn’t cheap, and he respected her for that and felt rather guilty for using her as a distraction from his more sinful thoughts.

He pulled away, scanning the surroundings, but seeing no trace of his geeky little brother. Not that he expected anything else, but the feeling started being quite overwhelming. _I’m going crazy…_

And suddenly he saw something that made him stiffen. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Jenna asked, her arms still folded around his neck as she looked over her shoulder the way he was looking.

“Guys! Sonny’s gang coming!” someone called.

The faces of boys and girls in their gang hardened as they stood still for a moment. Dean and Jenna joined them and watched the coming group. There was a muscled guy two or three years older than Dean, leading them. His eyes were cold, his hands fisted, it was obvious why he was here. Dean stood at the head of his gang, straight and proud, determined to defend its honor. They weren’t an easy target, Sonny and his minions should know that by now.

“Hey, what do you want?” Dean asked the leader of the other gang. There was a warning in his undertone.

“Heard you’re back. We came to level the score.”

“Oh…” Dean narrowed his eyes as he remembered the last fight with Sonny’s gang. “You wanna eat mud again? Idiots. Go home to your moms.”

“You filthy shit!”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Chill. I’m not gonna fight you. I don’t beat kids anymore.” Jenna and the rest of the gang laughed, but Dean stayed dead serious. “See you around, Sonny.” With that he turned around, showing his disinterest in any stupid brawl. He knew what he could cause if he hadn’t been able to control his anger. Even such a dick as Sonny didn’t deserve to end up on a surgery table.

“Coward!”

“Dean!” Jenna yelled, but before Dean could turn around and stop the fist aiming for his face, he was slapped by Sam’s angry presence. It filled him so abruptly that his head spun, and he almost missed the loud gasp coming from many mouths, but the warning growl _Hands off, dick_ didn’t escape his ears. He turned around to see what happened.

Sonny was lying on his back, looking at white sharp teeth of a young German Shepherd that was pressing him to the ground. The fur on the animal’s neck was sticking to the air, and low, menacing growls filled the dead silence. _You touch him and I rip your neck._

No one dared to move, especially not Sonny. “C-call it off,” he managed to stammer, earning another dog’s warning. _Don’t talk to him, you piece of shit._

“Sam,” Dean addressed the dog hesitantly. He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or finally went crazy…

The dog wiggled his ears and raised his head to look at him. Dean didn’t know how it was possible, but he could recognize Sam in that animal body. The way the German Shepherd looked at him, though his eyes weren’t hazel but chocolate brown, his proud stance, though on fours, the way he crinkled his nose and bared his teeth, though he had a muzzle instead of mouth – all of that reminded Dean of his little brother. And the growl… it was definitely Sam’s.

“Sam, stop it,” Dean said with more certainty.

The dog gave him a doubtful look, a low, disdainful growl belonged to Dean this time.

“No, I’m not kidding,” Dean responded immediately, and he didn’t even wonder how come he could understand the animal noises. Hadn’t he read something about it just the previous day? “Leave him alone.” This time it was a command.

Sam snorted and climbed off Sonny’s chest. He came to Dean and stood in front of him, his posture alone a clear signal that if anyone tried to attack his Warrior, they would be sorry for that for the rest of their lives.

“Cut it out,” Dean hissed, earning an uncomprehending glance from his animal brother.

Sonny got up to his feet. “You should train that mutt of yours or I’ll report it to the sheriff department for threatening people.”

Dean huffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Sam crouched a little as if he was ready to pounce on the guy again, growling. _Just shut up and fuck off._

Sonny pierced him with a cold look as he stepped back. “Rather keep an eye on it. May happen you won’t have a dog for too long… bastard.” With that he turned around and left.

The last comment rushed adrenaline into Dean’s veins. He wished to give the guy a lesson. NO ONE was threatening his brother, okay? He balled his hands into fists, wishing for something (preferably living) to hit.

He glared at the dog that gave him an innocent look. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Sam wagged his tail a bit and opened his dog mouth, his long, pink tongue lolling out.

“I didn’t know you had a dog,” Jenna said as she came closer.

“I didn’t either,” Dean muttered, glaring at Sam. “He has nothing to do here, I’m taking him home.”

“He’s so cute,” another girl from their gang squealed. “May I pet him?”

“Whatever you want…” Dean said without interest. He noticed Sam’s horrified look.

Girls surrounded the German Shepherd, petting him and stroking his fur, while Dean watched Sam’s pleading glances in his direction with satisfaction. _Serves you right, little Sammy._

“You’re so adorable,” he heard Jenna cooing to Sam, and he almost failed to hold back a bark of laughter as he noticed Sam’s disgusted expression.

“Fine, that’s enough. I’m taking him back,” Dean said after a while, smirking at his dog brother.

“Why? He can stay here,” Jenna said pleadingly, rubbing Sam, who apparently couldn’t decide whether he liked it or not, behind his pointed ear.

“No, he can’t. Sam, come on!”

Sam jumped away from the girls and hurried after Dean, who walked swiftly to the borrowed car and opened a back door for him. Sam gave him a questioning look.

“No, you’re not riding shotgun as a dog, forget that.”

Sam hung his head and jumped in the backseat, where he curled up.

Dean got behind the wheel and drove back to the salvage yard. He was angry with Sam. Knowing Bobby’s rules, he doubted the bitch had been given a permission to follow him. And definitely not as a dog for Christ’s sake!

“Pray to God for Bobby to not get wind of your little adventure,” he grumbled. “What was that for an idea, anyway?”

Sam snorted in the back seat, nothing Dean could interpret into an actual thought.

“You’re a moron.”

Sam mewled quietly, meeting Dean’s eyes in the rearview mirror. _Jerk._

Dean frowned. “Bitch.”

This time the word lacked the usual warmth. Sam put his head on his front paws, not sparing a single look on Dean anymore.

They reached the salvage yard in silence. Dean intended to get Sam into their room unnoticed, they didn’t need more trouble than they already had, but Lady Luck turned her pretty face away from them. As he let Sam out from the car, hurrying him into the house, they bumped into Bobby in the hallway. Guilt written all over their face was enough of a proof of their intention, and being practically caught in the act didn’t help them get away without a punishment, either.

“You,” Bobby looked at Sam furiously. “Room. Now. Whole week.”

Sam hung his head, ears plastered to his skull.

“And you,” Bobby continued, his attention on Dean now, “you just get out of my sight until I calm down.”

They ran up the stairs into the safety of their room. Dean gave a sigh of relief before his eyes found Sam. “Shift, we need to talk,” he said coldly.

Sam just kept staring at him.

“I said _shift_. I’m not talking to a _dog_.”

Sam glared, growled and bumped Dean’s leg gently. _Get out._

Dean scowled. “You got me into trouble, I’m not going anywhere.”

 _As you wish,_ Sam acquiesced and hopped on the bed. He crawled under his comforter. Dean could see a long tail disappearing under the covers on one end and Sam’s head peeking from under them on the other. Dean’s brother sat up, tightening the covers around his body, and Dean understood he was naked under them.

_Shit, I didn’t realize…_

Sam’s face was flushed, his eyes avoiding meeting Dean’s.

“Uh… I’ll leave you alone until you put something on…”

“You should’ve done that long ago,” sounded Sam’s bitchy voice.

Dean didn’t comment this time. He slid out from the room quickly and walked to the stairs, sitting on them. He put his head in his hands. God, it was a totally shitty day… He missed his adoring little brother, who acted like a dog sometimes, but didn’t change into one. This one was different. This one had closed the door on Dean from which neither of them had a key. Could they be the brothers they used to be once again?

He decided Sam had enough time to dress, so he stood up and walked to the door. He knocked on it. “Hey, can I come in?”

“No,” sounded a breathy voice.

Dean frowned, suspicious biting in him. “What are you doing?”

“Stay out!” The words were followed by a loud gasp.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes… yes… gimme a minute…”

“Sam, you’re sounding weird. I’m coming in.” He turned the doorknob and opened the door slowly. Sam was wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants and there would have been nothing suspicious about him if he hadn’t been wiping his hands into a paper tissue and blushing while doing it. There was also this familiar faint odor in the room Dean could smell.

“Don’t tell me you were…”

“Shut up! Don’t say it,” Sam interrupted him harshly, blushing even more.

Dean shook his head uncomprehendingly. “But… why did you…?”

“I always do that when I shift back,” Sam said brokenly.

“Why?”

“Because… Just ‘coz. Forget I’ve ever said that.” Sam glanced at Dean pleadingly. It was obvious the conversation was uncomfortable for him.

“Fine, if you really want that…” Dean said with a shrug.

“I do.”

“All right. So…”

Sam sank on the bed, head hung, hands folded in a nervous knot in his lap. He looked like an embodied misery. “So you finally know…”

“Not everything, no,” Dean said and moved into the room to sit down next to Sam. “I mean… you were always like this, my weird little brother, but… Okay, it’s my fault I’ve never tried to think about it deeper.”

Sam glanced at Dean, but didn’t say anything.

Dean coughed. “So you’re…”

“Your Protector, yes…”

“And I’m…”

“My Warrior.”

“Shit…”

Sam stayed silent again, hypnotizing his hands.

“That was why you followed me today?” Dean asked him in a low voice.

“Yeah. And I don’t regret anything,” Sam sounded determined, maybe even angry as he looked at Dean. “You needed me.”

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but I didn’t. I could handle the guy all by myself,” Dean said calmly.

Sam’s eyes went wide and round. “No, it was my job to…”

“To protect me?” Dean said and now even his voice sounded a little bit heated. “Just remember, Sam, whenever you tried to protect me, I had to pull your ass out of a fight if I didn’t want you to end up in hospital. Look what happened now. You’re grounded and there’s a death threat hanging above your dog alter ego. I’m sorry, Sam, but you’re doing a poor piss job here as my Protector.”

If there had been any red color in Sam’s cheeks before, there was no trace of it anymore. He was as pale as a marble statue, gaping at Dean with open mouth. It took him some time to recover from the first shock. His face darkened, the look of his eyes angry and dangerous. “GET OUT!!!” he yelled at Dean, and he looked like he wanted to hurt him. Dean had never seen him like this before.

“Sammy?”

“Don’t ‘Sammy’ me, you fucker, and GET THE FUCK OUT!!!”

However ridiculous it may seem, Dean got really scared at that moment and rather backed out from the room. Sam looked like on a verge of some mental breakdown. He was crazy and dangerous, and Dean wished nothing less than to be as far away from him as possible.

He slammed the door shut and stormed down the stairs, running for the only shelter he knew when he wanted to be alone – Sam’s jeep. Sam couldn’t leave the room right now, so it was a safe place.

He got in and realized that he was shaking all over, something painful pulling in him, making him sore and dizzy. This was such a mess…

He didn’t return into the house until it was dinner time. The silence in there was interrupted only by the ringing sound of plates and dishes as they were used and accompanied by the sound of running water as they were washed.

Dean was about to enter the kitchen when Sam’s broken voice reached his ears, “Can’t I sleep in the living room? Or somewhere else?”

“No.” It was Bobby who answered. This time he sounded calmer, but still strict. “Why would you?”

“I…” Sam trailed off.

“What did you do this time?”

There was silence for a moment, and then “I screwed up everything” uttered in a beaten tone.

“I don’t understand that.” Gentleness crept into Bobby’s voice. “Can you explain?”

“Yes, Sam, explain,” Dean entered the kitchen.

Sam winced, turning pale and looking sick. “When did you…? I didn’t…”

“Let’s say I’m good at sneaking up on you. Or you make it easy for me when you’re distracted…” Dean said humorlessly, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms on his chest. Bobby turned to the kitchen counter and pretended he was making coffee. Dean raised an eyebrow, waiting for Sam to start speaking.

Sam looked at the untouched toast in front of him, his hands resting on either side of the plate. He looked totally lost. And desperate. However, even his puppy dog eyes couldn’t convince Dean to make this easy for him. The older brother was watching Sam wordlessly, waiting patiently for Sam’s explanation.

“You were right, I’m a shitty Protector…” Sam said quietly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Okay, let’s face a few facts.” He moved from the wall and occupied a chair beside Sam. “I didn’t say you were a shitty Protector. I said that what you did was stupid and unnecessary. I didn’t need you back there in the town. You were supposed to stay here, safe and sound.”

Sam raised his head, looking Dean directly in the eye. “The guy was going to punch you. You wouldn’t have left it alone, you would have hit back, wouldn’t you? There would’ve been a fight…”

It was Dean’s turn to be quiet. Yes, there would have been a fight, probably a bloody one… Maybe Sam really HAD saved him from a big trouble…

“It doesn’t matter, Sammy. You put yourself in danger. You can’t do that, not even for me. I want you safe, so stay safe. Okay?”

Sam gave Dean a long, disapproving look. “If not for you, then who?” he said and the bitchy tone was back in his voice.

Dean groaned and hung his head in desperation. Why did Sam need to be so difficult?

“Listen here, son.” Bobby mixed into their conversation. “Your dad didn’t leave you here out of sheer fun. He had a good reason. He wanted to hide you from… the things out there until you were able to take care of yourself. That’s why you’re being trained.”

Sam’s smooth forehead creased with doubt. “Why did he want to hide only me? Why not Dean as well.”

“Because you are more vulnerable and Dean is not really that interesting without you.”

“Huh?” The boys looked at each other, feeling coldness creeping between them, chill running up their spines.

Bobby took a seat opposite them. “Dean, you know what’s out there, but there are hunts your dad never took you for, right?”

Dean blinked, eyes wide with understanding. He nodded.

“Because they concerned something John wanted to hide from both of you. The true danger and the reason why he keeps you two apart,” Bobby continued, giving both of them a careful look.

“What’s that?” Dean asked, breathless.

“You know that if I tell you, your father kicks my ass,” Bobby said earnestly.

Dean fidgeted impatiently in his chair. “Come on, Bobby. You’ve already started. Finish it.”

Bobby glanced at Sam. The kid was gazing at him as if Bobby was one of the Wonders of the World. He coughed and started. “Someone is stealing the essences of Protectors.”

Dean frowned. “What? What’s that?”

“It’s what makes Protectors what they are,” Sam whispered. “An essence determines what kind of a Protector you are and gives you your powers…” He swallowed heavily.

Dean gave Sam a searching look before he turned to Bobby again. “Who’s stealing them?”

“Demons.”

“Why?”

“They use them. They devour them or something. An essence gives them the ability to take an animal form and escape from a Devil’s Trap. Iron and salt can slow them down, but usually they only piss them off. Just like holy water.

“What happened to the Protectors who had their essence stolen?” Sam asked quietly.

Bobby took a deep breath. “They were found dead or insane.”

“Shit…” Dean breathed out, glancing in Sam’s direction. He had known long ago that there was a serious reason why Bobby had hardly ever let Sam out of his sight… but hearing it so directly… He noticed fear flicker in Sam’s eyes, but it was gone (or hidden?) in a moment.

“What’s Dean’s part?” Sam asked, his voice cold and firm, so strange to Dean’s ears.

Bobby looked at the boys, at their faces reflecting the determination to hear and understand what was going on around them. It was cruel keeping them in dark and not giving them a satisfactory explanation of all the misery they were forced to go through.

“Your Dad will kill me, but I think it’s time for you to take on some responsibility for your own lives. You’re not little kids anymore and you both know more about the world than most of your peers.” He paused, thinking how to put his thoughts into words. Sam and Dean were staring at him, waiting, both nervous, but not backing from the truth that could hurt them. “Protectors are slowly… or rather quickly… dying out,” he said finally.

Sam breathed out sharply. Dean glanced at him and his hand twitched as though he wanted to reach out but changed his mind in the very last second.

“The ones walking the earth are losing their essences, one after another. Without them, they’re nothing but empty shells. Young Protectors are not being born. To be honest, Sam is the only one I know about.”

Sam fidgeted nervously in his chair, casting his gaze down as if he were ashamed for the fact.

“The situation is rather bizarre. There are many Warriors, but no Protectors watching over them. That’s what happened to your Dad as well.”

“What?” Dean looked confused. “But… Mom?”

Bobby gave him a small, sad smile. “She wasn’t a Protector, Dean. She was just a Fighter.” Seeing the boys’ exchange of perplexed glances, Bobby explained. “The difference between a Warrior and a Fighter is that Warriors need a fight, that’s what they’re born for. But Fighters are common people who are forced to take part in Warriors’ fights. Since John’s never met his Protector, she took over that responsibility and was always by his side when he went to release some steam.”

Sam and Dean sat there stock-still, gaping at Bobby with wide eyes and slightly opened mouths. They understood. Their mother died while she was protecting their father.

“You… you said ‘met’,” Dean forced through his teeth in the end, his voice trembling.

“Yes.” Bobby looked around the kitchen in search for a bottle of whiskey. There was none in sight. “Pairs are not born in the same families. They meet when they’re old enough to carry the heaviness of their bond.”

Dean pushed away from the table, ready to stand up, while Sam straightened up, the question burning in their eyes.

“I don’t know why you two are an exception,” Bobby said. He had a theory about that, but he didn’t want to put more responsibility on those still too young shoulders. Maybe there was a need for a Pair with a bond exceptionally strong that would save the future of Warriors and Protectors. Maybe Sam and Dean were supposed to be the cure for this world’s disease. “Anyway, your bond should be as strong as the one of a fully grown and matured Pair. At least it was three years ago…”

Heavy silence filled the room, each of them thinking of the day of Sam’s tenth birthday when the boys ditched school and spent time in the park until Bobby found them. They had been close. Very close…

Dean’s breathing quickened as he remembered the kisses he and Sam shared, supposedly chaste and innocent, but he knew better… The tips of Sam’s ears turned red, he remembered that, too. How had he felt about it? How did he feel about it now?

“Now we’re finally getting to the point,” Bobby interrupted the flow of their thoughts. “The reason why I or your Dad want us together out there is that you are too obvious. Alone, you can hide who you are. A Warrior is just a man out there, as common as anyone.” He trained his eyes on Dean. “And even if you are recognized, it’s nothing special nowadays to see you without your counterpart. It’s Sam who should be more careful.” Bobby’s attention turned to the younger Winchester. “You’re not an ordinary human, but you should try hard to mask it. You learned to do it and you’re doing good. Your animal form is a bit of a problem. If you want to fool everyone that you’re nothing but a common dog, you should act like one.”

“I do, don’t I?” Sam pouted.

“Yes, but you wouldn’t fool a well-trained eye of a Warrior.”

“What shall I do?”

Bobby shrugged. “Show less intelligence?” he offered, but then he sighed. “Don’t leave the salvage yard without mine or Pamela’s company. But you should know one more thing.”

Sam held his breath, listening carefully.

“No matter what form you take, human or animal, any Protector that sees you will recognize you right away. Just like you’ll recognize them.”

Sam shivered. “Like Pamela?”

“Yup.”

“Is she in danger, too?”

Bobby looked away and nodded.

“Why? Her Warrior is dead and she doesn’t use her powers anymore.”

“But she still has them. Locked away deep inside, but still there.”

Sam nodded understandingly. “How about the demons with stolen essences? Can they recognize me?”

“I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I guess yes. An essence is the key to recognition.”

“Right…” Sam slumped in his chair. He folded his arms on the table and put his head on them, staring into distance.

“That’s demons,” Dean spoke suddenly, “but you haven’t explained why it’s wrong for Sam to be recognized by other Warriors or Protectors.”

Bobby gave him a long look. “Imagine you never met your Protector, you’re sure that a new generation is not born, and then some brat proves you wrong. They’re jealous, Dean. A missing Protector can bring the worst outta them. Many of them wouldn’t hesitate to kill you, convinced you’ve stolen what belonged to them by right.”

Sam lifted his head while Dean’s eyes went round once again that evening. “But… They must know it wasn’t my choice. That I was given my Protector by some creepy spiritual forces, right?”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Bobby said matter-of-factly.

“That’s insane! I didn’t ask for a Protector! I didn’t even know they existed until recently!”

“It is insane. But they won’t listen to the voice of reason, I can guarantee that. I’ve met some morons of that kind…”

“Dad?” Sam asked sheepishly.

Bobby’s expression softened a bit. “No, Sam. Your Dad is an exception that proves the rule. He could empathize with the poor bastards. He confessed to me he felt the same. But he loved you and wanted to protect you, no matter the cost. That’s why he separated you, even though he knew it’d be painful for you. He put your safety over your happiness.”

Sam’s eyes clouded. He set his jaw and fisted his hands, but said nothing.

“At least I get why I was so damn sick…” Dean huffed.

“Because your bond was being stretched. It took some time for it to adapt to the insane distances between you two without suffering harm.”

“No harm?” Dean squealed. “I was fucking unable to leave bed for days!”

Sam winced, glancing at Dean. His fingers dug into the soft skin on his palms.

Bobby didn’t scold Dean for his vocabulary. “I know,” he said calmly. “Sam wasn’t much better, either, but you both got used to it.” Why bother the kids with the fact it could have killed them? Dean’s trust in their father didn’t need such a shock and Sam’s anger with John didn’t need to increase as well. So Bobby only summed the effect the long separation left. “You are able to live apart for quite some time without causing your bond severe damage. It gives you advantage.”

Dean huffed scornfully while Sam unfisted his hands, splaying his long fingers on the table. Taking a deep breath the younger boy asked in a cold, leveled tone. “If he wants us separated and to minimize the danger of us getting attacked and killed that way, why does he keep bringing Dean here?”

“Because even you can’t be away from each other for too long. Dean needs to calm down his ferocious side and you need to see the point of your existence.”

“The point of my existence pretty much crumbled under my hands long ago. Dean’s presence is no longer a condition. I’m not allowed to do anything. I’m expected to sit tight and wait until the world’s a better place again. But it won’t be any time soon and right now I’m useless.” He stood up, looking at Bobby, who didn’t try to either confirm or deny his words.

Dean stayed quiet as well, unable to look at his brother. He didn’t know much about Sam’s life here, but he could guess it wasn’t very enjoyable under the constant supervision.

Sam walked slowly out from the kitchen and only when his footsteps died behind the door of his room upstairs, did Dean and Bobby allow themselves a sigh of relief.

“He’s right,” Dean said after some time.

“Is he?”

“Yes. I want him safe. That’s why I do prefer him to sit tight. He’s right in this. But he’s not useless.”

“Because…?” Bobby encouraged.

“He really calms me down. I feel more myself with him around.”

“You should tell him.”

“I will.”

It didn’t surprise Dean that when he went to bed, he found Sam already there and staring at the ceiling.

“Thinking about what Bobby told us?” he asked as he climbed into bed.

“Yeah,” Sam said without even a glance in Dean’s direction.

“There’s a lot to think about,” Dean agreed and lay down, facing his brother. “Listen, Sammy. You’re not useless.”

“No?” Sam asked doubtfully, turning his head to Dean.

“No.”

Sam breathed in, looking away again. “You don’t need to try to cheer me up, I’m okay.”

“I’m not trying to cheer you up,” Dean said a bit sharper than he intended. “Listen… Have you seen me smoking lately?”

Sam glanced at him. “No,” he admitted, “but I could smell cigarettes on your clothes.”

Dean grimaced. “Fine. But it must’ve been from when I was with the kids from the gang.”

Sam bit his lip.

“I haven’t smoked since you told me I smelled. It’s true.”

Sam didn’t reply.

“Why do you think I started in the first place?”

Sam shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Because I felt calmer. I needed it…”

Sam gave Dean a long, scrutinizing look. “So why did you stop?”

“Because I have you now,” Dean said sincerely.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me I’m like a cigarette?”

“Well… when you put it like that…” Dean grinned, but then he got serious again. “You calm me down. I needed it. Sometimes I think I’m losing my mind, but when you’re around, I can think straighter and be myself again. You bring peace, which I need.”   

Sam was looking at him, the doubt slowly fading from his eyes and being exchanged by something else, more terrifying.

“I need you,” Dean whispered and rolled on his back. It was his turn to gaze at the ceiling. He heard the sheets on Sam’s side rustle. Sam turned on his side to face his brother, but didn’t dare touch him.

“I’m frustrated, ‘coz I’m not allowed to do many things.”

“I know.”

“But I’m always here for you.”

Dean shook his head. “No, you’re not, Sam. You shut the door on me and refused to talk to me. You’re distant and you’re not letting me close. I’ve already stopped trying.” He sighed.

“Dean,” he could hear Sam’s trembling voice. “I’m so sorry.”

“So am I,” Dean said quietly, looking at his brother. Sam’s eyes were wide and dark, reflecting so much pain and guilt that Dean wondered how he was able to stay intact and not break into million pieces. “Why did you do that? What happened that day?”

“I was angry,” Sam started quietly. “I was tired and furious because of it. Dad made me train for days without a break. I didn’t feel well and I longed for you, and he knew that and made me do the damn hard exercises.”

Dean sighed. “Welcome to my world…”

“Yeah…” Sam whispered, shame seeping from his voice.

“How did it continue?”

“We yelled at each other.”

“As usual…”

“Yeah, but this time it was worse. I couldn’t take it anymore. I snapped. I didn’t think. I wanted to hurt him, so I told him about our deal, how we were going to leave him one day…”

There was a pause, filled only by the soft sound of their breathing. Dean turned to Sam, watching his usually beautiful features contorted with the deepest sorrow.

“I’m sorry I betrayed you. It must’ve been hell for you afterwards…” Sam broke the silence.

“It wasn’t nice,” Dean admitted. “What happened then?”

“Dad was staring at me for a long time. Then he ordered me to pack and he took me back to Bobby’s. He didn’t talk to me anymore. Until we got here, I had a lot of time to think about what I’d done. I didn’t care that Dad was mad at me. I was afraid what he’d do to you…” He looked at Dean, his eyes asking him to say it wasn’t so bad.

“It could be worse. I survived and it’s okay now,” he said matter-of-factly.

Sam nodded, gripping his covers in his hand tightly. “Then we were back,” he continued in a low voice, “and I was ashamed and afraid that when you find out, you’d want to get rid of me…  That was why I avoided talking to you. So that you didn’t have a chance to cut me off…”

“Huh? Will you explain what it means?”

Sam shivered. “If a Protector does something wrong and fails their Warrior, the Warrior can cut their bond. It doesn’t require more than sending the Protector to hell or just telling them they are no longer wanted. But the Warrior has to truly mean it, that’s the only condition. The action is irreversible. The Protector stops being a Protector and can’t use their powers anymore. Basically turns into a useless nutshell. The Warrior stops being a Warrior as well. The urge for fights disappears and the senses, which are normally keener than the ones of the common folks, lose their sharpness.”

Dean frowned. “And you thought I wanted that?”

Sam shrugged, looking away again.

“You’re such a moron,” Dean reached form Sam’s arm and pulled him to himself. “C’mere.”

Sam gasped, surprised, but went willingly. Dean arranged them into their usual sleeping position with Sam on top of him with his head resting on Dean’s chest and listening to his heartbeat.

“You’re pissed,” Sam said after a while.

“Yup. And since it’s your doing, you’re helping me to calm down. Now sleep.”

Dean could hear Sam’s huff, but his brother didn’t try to escape the flow of the ill emotion slowly leaving Dean’s body. Dean let Sam feel everything, making room for relief that would fill them both in the end.

After some time Sam relaxed and hugged Dean tightly. “Good night.”

Dean ran his hand through Sam’s shaggy hair. “G’night, kiddo.”

 


	9. Rules and Misunderstanding

 

The next morning Dean didn’t join Sam for the morning hunt and enjoyed the opportunity to stay in bed and sleep some more. When he got downstairs for breakfast, Sam was already back, just finishing the pancakes Pamela had baked. Dean ate his portion and moved into the garage to help Bobby. Sam came in after a few minutes. Bobby explained to Dean what he wanted from him and let him work.

“May I help?” Sam asked.

Dean made place for him, showing him what he was doing and gave Sam a chance to lend a hand.

“I’m paying you, Dean, not Sam,” Bobby warned them, but the boys only grinned and continued.

The day was great. Sam was communicative and relaxed, definitely more cheerful than any time Dean had ever seen him since the day John had dropped him at Bobby’s. The good mood returned something of that boyish charm into Sam’s movements, his eyes and smile. He was more graceful, more beautiful…

Dean caught the calling of the old desire. Watching the lines of Sam’s body hidden under the loose T-shirt and baggy jeans, he couldn’t stop himself from wishing for Sam to wear something tighter that would show more of his curves. How much had Sam changed? And then, Sam bent over the engine and his T-shirt rode higher, revealing a stripe of bare skin glinting with sweat in the sun.

Dean gasped and had to look away, but the image was still in front of his inner eye. It was so unfair…

He stood beside Sam and put a hand on his back. The heat coming from that body was burning him inside.

Sam looked up at him questioningly.

“I’ll do it,” Dean said and bent over the engine himself.

“I got it,” Sam protested.

“Let me.”

Sam straightened up, letting Dean finish his work.

Dean felt heat and he knew it had nothing to do with the hot summer day. He felt tension building up in his guts and it was a real relief when he heard Bobby call at him that he had a visitor.

A visitor? Him? Here?

He glanced at Sam, whose cheerfulness was gone immediately. His expression was blank and unreadable.

Dean wiped the dirt from his hands into a clean cloth and went to see who came to see him.

It was Jenna, grinning at him as if this was the best joke of her life. “Hey, tiger! Wanna go for a ride?”

He grinned back, but shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t. I promised Bobby to get some work done here. It’s great to see you, though.” He pecked her lips quickly. “Where’s your car?”

“Outside.” She motioned to the fence behind which her car was parked.

“Let’s go there,” he suggested. He could feel Sam’s look on the nape of his neck and he wanted to escape it. Jenna agreed with his idea, she wanted to be alone with him as well. “What’s new out there?” he asked her as they were walking to the gate.

“Nothing special. We hoped you’d join us today, but you didn’t show up, so I came. Oh, and Paul’s sulking!”

Dean chuckled. “Paul’s an idiot.”

“Is he?” she asked, the corners of her mouth twitching in an attempt to suppress the mischievous smile that formed on her lips.

“Isn’t he?” Dean asked back, grinning widely.

She pulled him to her car, pushing him against the side of it and invading his personal space with the skill of a cat. She kissed him passionately. “I missed you.”

He took her face in his hands and looked into her sincere eyes. She loved him, he knew that.

So that he didn’t need to answer, he kissed her back, a hot, demanding kiss made her give a broken sound. She slid her hands from his chest to the hem of his T-shirt, playing with it experimentally.

“Why don’t we get in the car?” she asked.

Dean glanced toward the house, but saw no one in the yard. Even the feeling of Sam’s presence was faint. He smiled at her. “Why not?”

Things became fast after that. He remembered his T-shirt on the floor of the car and her lips kissing his abdomen, making him think about the possible ways of releasing the tension in his pants for which Sam carried the responsibility.

_Don’t think about Sam, idiot!_

But how could he stop? The glimpse of Sam’s bare skin, the glint of the sweat covering it, the urge to lick it off, to taste it, to know the taste of Sam’s body…

Dammit! Wasn’t he hard?

Jenna took his hands and slipped them under her tight T-shirt. Dean could feel the softness of her breasts, their perfect shape, but even they couldn’t take his mind off his desire to feel Sam’s skin under his hands, not Jenna’s.

But he could pretend. That was what he was good at. Lying and pretending. He could imagine it was Sam bending over him, unzipping his pants and sliding his hand into Dean’s underwear. He only needed to get his hands somewhere else (her butt? Sam was still a kid, so his butt wasn’t much different from a girl’s… right?) and close his eyes as she started stroking him, the images of Sam flashing in his mind.

Jenna wasn’t bad at all. She surely had done this before. She knew when to go slower, when faster, how to twist her wrist to give him exactly what he wanted. She was skilled, dammit, why couldn’t he give her what she wanted? Why was he using her? She didn’t deserve it…

When guilt started taking over him, she did something unexpected. She took Dean into her mouth and sucked him hard until he came with a deep groan.

“Good?” she asked, wiping the come from her mouth and grinning.

“Jesus,” Dean sighed, trying to catch his breath. “You know how to do your job.”

She laughed. “Thanks for the compliment.”

She got out from the car to give him some space to put himself in order. She was still smiling contentedly, obviously aware of her talent. “It wasn’t a waste of time, what do you say?”

He shook his head and glanced at the yard. If he had been smiling, his smile was now frozen. The well-known German Shepherd was running across the yard to the gate. Even if he had wanted to shut it, he wouldn’t have been quick enough. The dog was already there, sniffing the air, sniffing Dean up and down. Dean pressed to the car as he stared into Sam’s eyes, horrified. “Go home!”

“Yay! Doggie!” Jenna cried in delight and scratched the dog behind his ear.

Sam only wagged his tail curtly, ignoring her otherwise. His eyes were fixed on Dean, maybe asking him something with the look, maybe warning him or just mocking him, Dean couldn’t tell. But the amount of lust reflecting in those unnaturally chocolate eyes was more than disturbing.

The dog whined quietly, giving Dean chills. “No, you don’t!” he squeaked and wanted to run from the dog’s reach, but he was too slow. The next thing he remembered was the German Shepherd holding him tight with his front paws and humping his leg.

“Goddammit, Sam, cut it out!” he yelled, trying to push the persistent dog away.

Jenna laughed somewhere in the background. She wound her arms around the dog’s neck, wanting to pull him away, but Sam gave a dark, warning growl, so she better left him alone.

Dean was furious. He grabbed the skin on the dog’s neck with both his hands and pulled Sam down.

Sam squeaked in pain and finally let go of him.

“Serves you right!” Dean spat angrily, but Sam didn’t seem to get the memo and rubbed one of his front paws against Dean’s calf. “No!”

Sam wagged his tail and put his head on Dean’s thigh, staring at him fondly while sniffing dangerously close to his crotch.

“Sorry, Jenna, I have to go and pacify this fluffy idiot. I’ve no idea what came over him.” Dean tried for an apologizing smile, although he felt deeply embarrassed and extremely mad. “I have work, anyway…”

“That’s okay,” she said and chuckled. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah…” Dean pushed Sam’s head away and stepped away from the car.

Jenna got in and started the engine. She gave Dean the last smile… and then truly laughed as Sam hugged Dean’s thigh again in an attempt to get off.

“Are you fucking crazy?!?” Dean yelled at him, pushing him away, but Sam held him in a tight grip, rubbing his dog cock against Dean’s leg. He was completely like in some kind of trance.

Dean pulled his skin again. Sam whimpered, jumping off, but Dean didn’t let go. “We’re going, come on,” he commanded and pulled the dog through the gate. Sam tried to protest, the more he struggled, the more firmly Dean held him. He didn’t trust Sam not to try to hump his leg again.

Instead of going into the house, Dean pulled Sam into the maze of the car wrecks. Bobby and Pamela really didn’t need to know what was going on…        

Somehow he managed to get Sam to the jeep without being sexually harassed again. “Get in,” he ordered and opened the door for the idiot. Sam jumped in the backseat without a complaint. Dean breathed out a sigh of relief and got in the passenger’s seat himself.

He turned to Sam, glaring at him. The pink tongue lolled out from the dog’s mouth, and then it would have been licking Dean’s goddamn face if he hadn’t ducked.

“Jesus Christ, man! Stop it right away! Just… turn back, okay?”

Sam licked his muzzle, hypnotizing Dean.

“Now!” Dean yelled angrily. “Don’t you think you’re getting away with this so easily! Now I’m going to get you some clothes, and you make sure that when I’m back, you’re human again.” With that he climbed out of the car, slamming the door angrily. He could feel Sam’s eyes on his back the whole time until he disappeared from his sight in the house.

_Fuck it, this is so screwed…_

He ran into their room and found a pile of Sam’s clothes the bitch had worn that day on the bed. He grabbed them and hurried back, hoping he wouldn’t meet the adults. It would have been too awkward to explain why he was carrying Sam’s clothes and running with them out of the house. Dean had enough awkwardness for one day.

By the time he got back Sam had already turned back into his human form, but the lust was still present in his eyes as he sniffed the air (Dean tried not to think about the two used paper tissues Sam threw on the floor hastily).

“Oh, stop it,” Dean growled and threw the clothes in Sam’s face. “Get dressed, bitch.” He turned around, looking out through the windshield. “Goddammit, Sam, you’re acting like a psycho…” he growled as he listened to the rustling of clothes coming from the backseat. “You know that if it’s not consensual, it’s called rape, don’t you?” he went on in his angry monologue.

There was a sudden dead silence in the backseat.

“Rape?” Sam’s voice was low and cautious.

“Yeah!” Dean spat, infuriated.

“How could I rape you if you had your jeans still on?” And it was the well-known bitchy tone Sam used every time he didn’t want to admit he had done something wrong.

Dean turned around, frowning at his half-dressed brother. “Don’t you understand? You were acting like some crazy pervy dog! What the hell?”

Sam was glaring back at him, his chest heaving in a quick rhythm, but otherwise he was perfectly motionless.

“You totally ridiculed me, do you even care?” Dean went on. “Was that what you wanted?”

Sam flinched. “Wanted? No! Is that what you think?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know what to think anymore, Sam. It was too much information for me in the past few days, so sorry if I can’t process them quickly enough.”

Sam bit his lip, hanging his head. “I’m sorry. It’s stronger when I’m a dog… I didn’t want to. I’m sorry.”

Dean sighed. Seeing his brother miserable was the last thing he wished for. “Why did you turn, then? Why did you come, by the way?”

Sam took his T-shirt. Dean noticed his hand shiver as he reached out for it.

“I… was curious,” Sam said shyly.

“Curious? Why? What did you expect to see?”

Sam pursed his lips. “I don’t know!” he barked. It seemed it surprised him more than Dean, because he pulled on the T-shirt hastily, avoiding his brother’s look, the tips of his ears red. “Sorry…”

Dean breathed out slowly, giving his brother some time to calm down before he would say what was on his mind. The guilt was reflecting in Sam’s face and Dean was convinced that if they ignored the elephant in the room, it would crush them both one day when they least expected it…

“Sammy,” he started in a gentle tone, catching Sam’s attention. “Let’s be honest with each other, okay? You want something from me.”

Sam raised his head, but said nothing.

“You know it’s not right…”

Sam took a deep breath. “I can’t stop it. I will never be able to…” he said quietly.

“I know… I’m aware you can’t just switch off your feelings…”Dean started.

“No, Dean, you don’t understand,” Sam interrupted him. “There will never be anyone for me but you. It’s… It’s a Protector thing.” He shrugged.

Dean started at him for a while until the idea settled. “Oh…” _Huh, what a revelation…_ “So… uh… you’re telling me that there’s no chance for you to… to…” Dean cursed inwardly. Why was he so nervous suddenly? “… fall in love with anyone else?” he finished, feeling even more awkward for saying it out loud than when Sam humped his leg.

Sam turned red, shaking his head and gazing at his hands folded in his lap.

“Wow…” Dean was pretty amazed. He had it in front of his eyes all this time and he didn’t even know. How stupid. Sam’s love was his and it always would be, no matter whether it was right or wrong.

Sam hung his head even lower. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be stupid. You can’t control it, can you?” And what if Dean’s voice sounded a little bit excited? Sam obviously didn’t notice, because he shook his head and looked even more miserable. Dean rolled his eyes. “As I understand it, it’s my responsibility to keep you… Fuck!”

Sam lifted his head. “What?”

“Dad,” Dean said unhappily, looking from the window.

Sam’s face went through all stages from unpleasantly surprised through angry to stubbornly indifferent.

Dean got out from the car. He expected Sam to follow him, but the younger brother didn’t move at all.

“Hey, you’re not coming?”

“Nope.” Sam rolled from his back to his front, glancing at Dean, hic expression closed and unreadable.

 _Maybe that’s for the best,_ Dean thought. Sam and John hadn’t seen each other ever since the disastrous day a year ago. He sighed. “Okay.”

He just wanted to leave when Sam’s voice stopped him. “Dean, it’s not about you.”

Dean gave his brother a small, reassuring smile. “I know.”

Sam chewed his lip, leaning out from the rolled window. “Maybe it is a little bit about you,” he said quietly, an apology in his eyes. “You know… I hate seeing you leave. Would you mind if I’m not there when you go?”

Dean shook his head. “Not at all.” He forced himself into a smile, a bigger one this time. For Sam. He was always going to smile for Sammy… “Take care, kiddo.” He gave Sam a playful pat on his shoulder.

“You too, Dean.”

“Yeah…”

Dean walked away slowly. His steps were steady, full of inner strength and confidence. Just a show for Sam… The moment Dean knew he was out of his brother’s sight, his legs buckled under him and he needed to lean against the wall in the hallway in order to keep his balance. That was where John found him.

“Where are you? Go pack.”

Dean nodded and hurried upstairs. Closing the door of the room and separating himself from the world this way brought at least some relief. He took a deep breath and started collecting his things. One of his socks was missing and Dean couldn’t find it anywhere. He chanced a peek under Sam’s pillow and found a dog’s collar. He studied the tag for some time, trying to figure out what it was good for. He was sure as hell Sam hadn’t worn the collar that time in town when Dean had seen him as a dog for the first time. Maybe Sam only hadn’t wanted to freak him out more than Dean had already been…

He ran his fingers over his and Sam’s names engraved into the cool metal. “So you’re my dog, huh?” He put the collar on Sam’s pillow and sighed. There was no sign of the sock and it was pointless to look for it, it would have taken him a way too long and he was sure that Dad was already impatient, so Dean left the room one sock poorer.

As expected, John was already waiting for him in the Impala. He was obviously in a bad mood. Dean guessed he had a fight with Bobby. It didn’t surprise him. Lately, the two of them seemed to be fighting every time they saw each other.

Dean got in and glanced at the jeep. He didn’t see Sam. It didn’t surprise him, but it didn’t feel right as well. He hoped for a silent goodbye at least.

Sam wanted, he really did, to give it to Dean. But he couldn’t. His heart already felt like a piece of porcelain and seeing Dean go would have been exactly the thing that would have shattered it into pieces. Gluing it together always took him months, but the seams stayed, more fragile and painful than the last time.

Days went by as usual: morning run, training, free time (which he mostly spent in the jeep, thinking of Dean, yearning for him and regretting the obscenely long time they couldn’t spend together. When would they meet again?), meals, bed… Empty bed. Sam got used to Dean’s body next to his. No matter if they had been having a fight or things were fine between them, Dean had always been there when Sam had been falling asleep… But now he wasn’t. It felt so wrong…

And he was sick again, trying to hide it from Bobby and Pamela. He knew it was just a heartache, that his body was already used to Dean’s absence, but he couldn’t help the sudden dizziness or the sharp pain in his lungs whenever he thought his life had no meaning without Dean in it.

Shortly after Dean’s departure, Jenna turned up in the salvage yard again. Sam was just moping in his jeep as usual. His dog senses warned him about her presence sooner than Bobby or Pamela could notice her, and Sam felt some twisted satisfaction as he finally found a victim for his frustration. He marched in the yard, looking daggers at her. “What do you want here?” he asked with hostility, crossing his arms on his chest.

She startled and looked less courageous than the last time he saw her. “I’m looking for Dean.”

“He’s not here. He left a few days ago.”

“Do you have any idea when he returns?”

“No. Any other questions?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Who are you by the way? I don’t remember seeing you around.”

“I’m Dean’s brother.”

She raised an eyebrow. “He never mentioned a brother.”

“He didn’t mention many things to you. Now go away.”

She turned red, but then she only snapped, “Fine,” and was gone before Bobby appeared in the yard.

Sam didn’t see her since that time, not even in the town when the new school year started.

He really had believed that the school would manage to distract him from thinking of Dean, but dealing with everyday life with strangers all around him was worse than absolute solitude. He was expected to respond, usually with a smile, and that was killing him. Now, when he found a name for that biting bitch of a feeling for his brother, it hurt more than any time before. He might not be throwing his guts up, but the millions of tiny shards of his heart were refusing to be glued into one piece, scratching his chest from the inside and carving the mark of his sinful desire into the organs, letting him bleed but never bleed out.

He was a mess and he was unable to hide it anymore.

There was a girl, Stella, nice and friendly, the only person that still talked to him. For everyone he was a weirdo, smart but silent, preferring to be left alone. Everyone respected that unspoken rule, only she ignored it perfectly. She talked to him more than necessary, asking about things she supposedly didn’t understand from their classes, but Sam figured very fast that she didn’t need his help. Though, he never asked her why she was doing it. He didn’t care.

But she was persistent. Asking him out several times (which he had to refuse for Bobby’s rules), suggesting mutual activities (in which he wasn’t interested), or just trying to spend time with him during breaks (which he didn’t appreciate but shut up about it), until the day came when she couldn’t take it anymore and asked him directly, “Am I getting on your nerves?”, and wow, that was blunt. He didn’t reply.

“You know that I like you.”

“I do.”

“But you don’t like me, right?”

Sam sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Is there someone else?”

Jesus, she was curious… He was silent again.

“Oh, there is. I’m sorry… Who, if you don’t mind me asking? Maybe I can help.”

Sam shook his head. “That’s sweet of you, and I thank you, but you can do nothing. He’s not here…”

“He?” Her eyes were as big as pizza plates.

_Oh, shit…_

When she spoke, he could hear clear excitement in her undertone. “Don’t worry, I won’ tell anyone. Who is it? Do I know him? What is he like?”

Sam reached for his school bag. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” he said firmly.

“Why not? Did he dump you?”

 _Yes, in a way,_ Sam thought and frowned at her. “I’m not talking about him. Not now, not ever. So respect it, please.”

He really trusted her. She didn’t seem to be a bad girl. But when he found a word FAGGOT written all over the door of his locker, he knew where it came from. Stella was the only one who had known. And now the whole school knew…

The hell inside transformed into hell outside. Kids were picking on him, calling him names, laughing at him, just because he hadn’t been careful and let a word slip. He could take it, he knew he’d be left alone the moment a new victim appeared. But right now he felt lonelier than any time before…

Until Andy stepped into his life. A shy kid. And gay. Who wanted a friend – at least he said so. Sam could do friends. He didn’t feel so unbearably lonely at least. Especially when he hadn’t heard from his brother ever since Dean’s departure. He didn’t mind when people were laughing at them and called them a pansy couple. He didn’t care. He had a friend, though he was much more careful about the things he let out.

It was Andy who started the debate one day during the lunch break as they sat alone in a locker room away from everyone.

“Hey, I heard you’d been dumped by a boyfriend. Is that true?” Andy asked out of blue.

Sam froze. “No,” he said carefully. “I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

Andy looked at him, surprised. “But the rumor… Oh, you’re right, it’s just a rumor.”

“Yeah, just a rumor,” Sam agreed and took a deep breath as the shards of his heart scratched his insides.

“Mine dumped me,” Andy said matter-of-factly.

“Who?” Sam asked, inattentively. In his mind, he was with Dean again.

“My boyfriend.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“Yeah... Me too. I’m lonely.”

Sam sighed. “Tell me something about it…”

“What happened to your… whatever he was to you?” Andy’s eyes were fixed on Sam.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. Bad experience. Sorry.”

Andy nodded. “I can understand that. But you’re… not with anyone right now… are you?”

Sam looked at him, confused. “Why are you asking?”

“Well… uh… if you feel lonely… and so do I…. I thought…” Andy fidgeted nervously. “I thought we could be probably more than friends…” His eyes locked with Sam’s, trying to read the answer.

Sam’s broken heart started beating faster. “Why do you think it’s a good idea?”

Andy shrugged. “Do you see any future with your guy?”

Sam thought about it. Andy was right. Dean had said himself that what Sam felt was wrong. It _was_ wrong, dammit! It was incest, even though Sam couldn’t prevent himself from having those feelings for his brother. Was he supposed to spend his life alone, then? He was there for Dean, every second, every breath he gave belonged to Dean… but Dean wasn’t there and Sam was suffocating. If Andy could help him to catch his breath, wasn’t Sam allowed to use the chance? Was he supposed to spend his whole life lonely and yearning for someone he couldn’t have? 

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath.

Andy winced. “What?”

“I say yes, let’s be more than friends.”

Andy’s face lit up. “Really? You want to…?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yes, I do.”

“Jesus!”

Sam had to smile. Andy looked like a kid that was given candy.

So Sam had a boyfriend. Not that he put too much effort into the relationship. To be absolutely honest, he didn’t care. It was always Andy, who reached for Sam’s hand when no one was looking or initiated a kiss. Sam simply went with the flow, let Andy set the pace and did what was expected. His loneliness wasn’t cured and his heart was still in shards, but the edges weren’t so sharp anymore and emptiness wasn’t so scary.

And then Dean called.

“Hey, Sammy, how are you?”

Sam’s world turned upside down. Guilt and shame fell on him with crushing force, robbing him of breath, and his heart stopped beating for a few moments.

“Sammy?”

“Here,” Sam said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m fine. Well… as fine as I can be…”

“Yeah, same here,” Dean said, and he sounded tired. “Occasional headaches, but otherwise I’m all right.”

Sam took a deep breath – his first proper one after a long time. “I can relate,” he said, forcing more cheerfulness into his voice. God, how much he missed Dean!

“This sucks.” Anger crept into Dean’s voice. “I mean I know why Dad’s doing this, keeping us apart and hiding you at Bobby’s, but…”

“It still sucks,” Sam finished.

“Yeah,” Dean sounded upset. “We need each other…”

“We can live, can’t we?” Sam tried to put some optimism into his words.

Dean snorted. “Tell me something nice.”

“I love you.”

The moment the words were out Sam realized how foolish he was. He was honest, but such words were not allowed unless his Warrior expected them. Protectors were supposed to support their Warriors, to look after them and watch over their happiness. Protectors were supposed to accompany, to guide, and to protect. Protectors were there to take blows, give their body and soul, to suffer. They sure as hell weren’t supposed to make their Warriors feel like they owed their Protectors anything. For that reason, confessing their feelings was considered an unforgivable mistake. Protectors could voice how they felt only in case it was clear that such confession would make their Warriors happy. Otherwise it was insolent.

With his heart beating in his throat Sam waited for Dean’s response. Whatever Dean would do, whatever he would say, Sam would have to take it.

But Dean laughed, the anger washing away from his voice as he spoke. “That’s definitely the nicest thing I’ve heard today.”

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. “Good, I’m glad I could help.”

“Silly.” Dean chuckled. “I needed it. I have to go now. Talk to you some other time.”

“Be careful.”

“You too.”

Sam hung up with a sick feeling in his guts. How could he be with Andy when the only one he wanted was Dean? What a terrible person he was; he was practically deceiving both of them.

He should split up with Andy. He wanted to. But Andy had a bad day and Sam didn’t have the heart make it even worse.

Andy had problems with math and Sam offered his help. So that was how they ended up alone in the locker room again, out of sight of everyone, and kissing passionately. Well… it was Andy who attacked Sam’s mouth the moment the door was safely closed behind them, having Sam pressed against the wall right next to it. Sam wanted to stop him, he really did, but when the memory of Dean and his girlfriend flashed in front of his inner eye, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything.

Dean deserved his ginger-haired girlfriend, if he only could spend more time with her. Sam had been unfair to her, yes, he was aware of that. The girl was nice (bitch), and Dean liked her (fuckdammit), he could be happy with her (*death of main character*). Dean definitely deserved someone better than his screwed-up, broody and perverted little brother…

And so did Andy, whose kisses were too greedy, too rough, too desperate… Sam knew why. Andy had been hurt and he wanted to make sure Sam wouldn’t do what his previous boyfriend did. He wanted to know that Sam won’t dump him.

Sam closed his eyes and let Andy do whatever he wanted. He didn’t love him, but he could do something for him. Dean had his girlfriend… and Sam didn’t want to feel so fucking lonely anymore. It was driving him crazy. There were days when he felt too tired to deal with the world, too numb, too indifferent. Because of that, he didn’t have many friends. Actually, he had only Andy, and he couldn’t even say how it happened. It simply did. A small miracle he never asked for…

He gave a surprised moan when Andy’s hand touched his crotch.

“May I?” Andy asked, watching Sam’s face.

Instead of answering, Sam took Andy’s face in his hands and kissed him again. When he closed his eyes, he could pretend it was Dean…

“Yes,” he breathed out, not opening his eyes.

Andy kissed him one more time before Sam could feel the hot, wet lips on his neck. He tilted his head backwards, panting. Meanwhile Andy undid his jeans and pulled them down a little so that he could get better access to Sam’s cock.

Sam groaned. Andy wasn’t skilled, oh, no, Sam could do much better with his own hand. It was the effort that counted.

“Didn’t you… didn’t you want me to help you with math?” Sam asked, panting.

“Forget math, this is much more interesting,” Andy silenced him, working Sam’s cock to full awareness. He was rough and impatient, but Sam didn’t mind. He wanted to stop thinking. He wanted to stop seeing Dean’s face whenever he closed his eyes, and yet he wanted Dean to be there instead of Andy… Dean would have been gentler, sure he would, and Sam would still have felt his every touch in his every cell. He knew he would have… if only Dean had been there…

Dean…

Sam whimpered, his cock hard and…

Andy suddenly stopped. “What the FUCK?!?”

Sam opened his eyes and looked down at the thing Andy was staring at with a horrified expression. There, at the base of his cock, was forming a big bulge.

“Oh, that?”

 _“Oh, that???”_ Andy squeaked. “You jerk, you know that if you suffer from some sort of an STD, you’re obliged to inform your partner, don’t you?”

Sam frowned, tucking his swollen junk back into his jeans. “I don’t suffer from any STD.”

“So what is that?” Andy pointed at Sam’s crotch.

Sam just stared at him, dumbfounded. “I always had it. I thought it was normal. That some guys…”

“It’s not normal, you idiot! You have a problem!”

Sam glared. “And I’m telling you I’m perfectly healthy!”

“You can hardly be healthy with such a tumor in your pants! It can be cancer or something even worse!”

“It’s no tumor!” Sam was losing his patience.

Andy sighed. “Look, Sam, I’m not touching you unless I know it’s safe. You should see a doctor.”

“I’m not sick, dammit!”

“That’s what you say.”

“You don’t believe me.”

Andy shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Fuck you.” Sam buckled his belt and took his school bag. “When you stop this nonsense, you know where to find me.” He opened the door.

“I’m only worried about you, man, don’t you understand?” Andy tried for a placatory tone.

“You don’t need to, I’m fine. A little bit of trust wouldn’t hurt.” With that Sam left, not looking back.

The next day Andy wasn’t at school and when he returned, he kept his distance. He talked to Sam, but refused to touch him or even to be alone in one room with him and threw pitiful glances at him all the time. Sam was afraid that sooner or later the whole school would be talking about the freak with a bulge on his cock and withdrew into his solitude. To his surprise, nothing like that ever happened.

A couple of weeks later Andy stopped by at Sam’s locker before their first class. “I’m clean,” he said, obviously expecting some sort of reaction from Sam.

Sam took out a few books and shoved them into his bag. “I know,” was everything he said without looking at Andy.

“Sam, you really should see a doctor. You don’t know what it may be,” Andy said in a hushed voice.

Sam sighed heavily. “Andy,” he addressed his boyfriend (or maybe an ex-boyfriend, he didn’t think about it) emphatically. “How many times do I need to tell you that I’m fine? I’ve always been like this.”

“Always?” Andy looked at him, perplexed.

“Yes, always. And for a long time I thought everyone was like that, too.”

“But… how come? You must have seen…”

“Jesus Christ, Andy!” Sam felt like banging his head against the locker. “Let’s just say I have very limited access to porn, so I didn’t have many chances to see the cocks of turned on guys.”

“So… you say it’s there only… when you… uh…” Andy was struggling with the embarrassing words.

“Yes,” Sam said, annoyed with the whole conversation. “Can we stop talking about it now?”

Andy didn’t bring up the thing again, and even though he was on a friendly wave with Sam, they didn’t make out anymore. Sam figured that Andy didn’t want a freak with a bulging cock for a boyfriend… and if he wanted to be totally honest, it was a relief. Sam didn’t feel like he was lying to anyone this way. On the other hand, he missed the touch of a loving hand, missed the feeling he was important like that to someone.

And he missed Dean.

Only with Dean the world was colorful again.

Days were going by; training, school, homework, talks with Andy, walks with Bobby and Pamela, waiting for Dean’s calls. There wasn’t much joy in everyday activities, there wasn’t much to be sad for, either. Sam lived, but didn’t feel alive. He had no idea how much time since Dean’s departure had passed until it was Christmas.

Yeah, one day it was Christmas and the other Dean’s birthday.

Andy stopped talking to him. Sam never noticed when it happened. Maybe he had withdrawn into his own world more than he thought.

Occasionally, someone decorated his locker with insults. Sam didn’t care as long as no one tried to touch him. Once a guy tried and ate mud afterwards…

But then the day came when they picked on Andy. Sam wouldn’t have cared if he hadn’t felt loyal to a friend (though their friendship right now was doubtful). Someone outted Andy, who was being tormented by the school bullies. Sam couldn’t just stand still and watch. For some time already he had been feeling strange tension and nervousness very similar to the restlessness he always felt when Dean was coming. Only this time Dean hadn’t turned up, no matter how many times Sam had checked the driveway into the salvage yard. If nothing else, this was the chance to blow off some steam.

He mixed into the fight to defend his friend.

Unable to control his temper, it was he who gave the first real blow. The more the guys picking on Andy fought back, the more violent Sam got. He didn’t owe them anything. Pain was fueling his anger and Sam felt some twisted satisfaction. After a very long time he felt something other than loneliness. Finally, he felt alive.

He wanted to bite the assholes. Wanted to make them suffer for all the insults and mockery, for everything that turned the lives of gay guys at school in hell. He wanted them to suffer just like he did ever since Dean had been gone.

He felt the well-known tingle in his nerves and he knew he was screwed. He could turn into a dog and destroy everything, or he could stop right now and lose the fight. He wasn’t an idiot, he chose the latter.

Still, it was a teacher’s intervention that ended the fight. Sam ended up with a bleeding nose and a blue eye while he helped his opponents to split lips and a lot of bruises. Andy was bruised, too, but otherwise he was okay. He only looked… well… angry.

“You idiot, no one asked for your help,” Andy hissed as they were escorted to the principal’s office, Sam nursing his nose which stopped bleeding. He always healed swiftly (another Protector thing, Pamela had said) and he knew there would be no trace of the bruises by the next day.

“So I was supposed to just watch as the assholes were picking on you?” Sam growled back.

“Why do you care so suddenly?”

Sam blinked. “What do you mean? You are my friend, I’ve always cared.”

“No, you haven’t. You didn’t even when we were together,” Andy insisted.

Sam frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“You were never here for me, Sam. You don’t need me or anyone else. You’re living in some fantastic universe of yours with your boyfriend or whatever he is to you, I even doubt he’s real...”

The words were harsh, but truthful. Andy was right in everything: Sam didn’t need anyone, didn’t want anyone, he only wanted Dean and Dean was as real right now as any fantasy could ever be…

Or not?

Sam’s keen nose suddenly registered the well-known scent he loved so much. He raised his head, scanning the surroundings. And he spotted him, shielded by the crowd in the wide corridor, Dean was making his way toward their little company.

Sam froze on the spot, his heart beating frantically.

“Sam?” Andy addressed him, but Sam didn’t hear him.

He didn’t hear anything. He was surrounded by absolute, perfect silence, in the world where there was only he and Dean… Only Sam and Dean… Only the two of them, safe and happy and together…

Sam gave a quiet, relieved whine and ran, ran right into those arms in which he belonged and nowhere else… Home.

“Dean,” he breathed out as the arms locked around him, and he sniffed into the leather jacket smelling of gas and oil and gunpowder, tangled his fingers into it as if he was never to let it go… never let Dean go.

He was real. Dean was real and he was there, gluing the shards of Sam’s broken heart together, filling it with his presence.

“Dean,” Sam sighed, hiding his face in the hug.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said softly. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you outside for almost an hour.”

“Dean,” Sam repeated like the name was his protecting mantra.

Dean patted his back. “Now, now, Sammy. Are you okay?”

Sam wanted to shake his head, then nod… God, he didn’t know what he wanted! He just sniffed into Dean’s jacket again.

Dean made him raise his head, his thumb wiping the wetness from Sam’s cheek away. “Hey now, puppy, what’s up? Who dared to hurt you?” Dean’s fingers touched the sensitive skin right under Sam’s eye and brushed the line of Sam’s nose.

The corners of Sam’s mouth quirked upwards. “No one,” he said, unable to break the eye contact with his brother.

Dean raised an eyebrow, watching Sam doubtfully. “So the dry blood around your nose and the yellow bruise under your eye are part of your Halloween costume, right? I’m sorry to break it to you, little brother, but you’re almost four months late.”

Yellow. Great. That meant it was healing fast. Sam smiled. “Jerk,” he said affectionately.

Before Dean could reply there was the teacher’s voice, calling Sam back. He clutched Dean’s jacket tighter.

“Any problem?” Dean asked, eyeing the teacher suspiciously while he still held Sam in his arms.

Sam creased his nose, looking at his brother apologetically. “Kinda,” he admitted. “I kicked a bully’s ass and now I’m going to pay a visit in the principal’s office.”

Dean sighed. “You look like the bully kicked your ass… Let’s go.”  He pushed Sam gently in the direction of the teacher and the other culprits. After he exchanged a few words with the teacher, their small company moved.

“Hey, Sam,” Andy whispered as he tugged at Sam’s sleeve to catch his attention (because, really, Sam could hardly tear his eyes away from his brother, who was walking ahead with the teacher). “Is that… Is that your miracle?”

A broad smile spread across Sam’s face. His miracle. He liked that.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “That’s him.”

“Isn’t he… kind of old for you?”

Sam chuckled. “He may look older, but he’s just eighteen,” he said as he watched Dean’s proud walk. There was no insecurity in his posture: straight back, head high, no tension in shoulders – the picture of a confident young man who knew exactly what he wanted.

Andy only rolled his eyes. “That’s what I’m talking about. You’re just fourteen.”

“You are fourteen. I’m still thirteen.”

“You’re an idiot. You’re a kid for him.”

Sam shrugged and watched his miracle’s graceful stride again.

Dean wouldn’t have been let into the principal, but obviously the ‘eighteen-year-old brother’ had the same value here as a guardian.

“Brother??? Are you kidding me?” Andy hissed into Sam’s ear. Sam responded with a grin before he entered the office.

The fun started…

Dean listened silently to what others had to say to the whole incident. Whatever they were talking about, it sounded like a buzz to Sam’s ears, everything he was able to concentrate on was the tension that was creeping up into Dean’s shoulders and the darkness clouding the sparkles in his eyes. Sam wished to reach out and take some of that tension away.

He was asked a question.

“Uh… What?”

“Are you listening, Sam?”

No, he wasn’t. He noticed Dean’s heavy sigh. And then his brother mixed into the conversation.

“If I understand it right,” Dean started, sizing up the couple of bullies with disdain, “Sam and… uh… Andy?” Andy nodded quickly, wide eyes on Dean, “Sam and Andy were bullied and laughed at for quite some time and you’ve never even moved a finger to stop it.” Dean sounded angry… and dangerous.

The principal looked nervous. “Mister, we couldn’t do anything unless the boys or their families informed us of such behavior…”

 _“Mister,”_ Dean interrupted him, emphasizing the first word. “Whatever happened, it happened under the school roof. The school is responsible for the fact that such behavior occurred here.”

“We can’t have eyes everywhere!” The teacher tried for defense.

Dean glared at him. “The moment the kids step on the school grounds, the school takes over the responsibility for them. While they’re here, you are responsible for their well-being. You were supposed to notice that something was off. If I hear my brother’s bullied ever again, I’ll file a complaint. Now excuse us, we’re going home. Come on, Sam.”

Sam hurried after his brother, following him out from the office. Once out, he said, “You weren’t fair. Kids know how to mask such behavior…”

“You think I don’t know? Let’s get outta here…” Dean said before he glanced at Sam and frowned. “Go wash that blood from your face before we leave. You look awful.”

When Sam looked into the mirror in the bathroom he had to admit Dean was right. The dried blood under his nose didn’t look appealing at all. To be honest, he looked worse than he was. His nose didn’t feel any consequences of the physical damage and the bruise didn’t look so bad anymore. He was alright.

He washed the blood away quickly, he didn’t want to spend more time there than necessary and apparently Dean was of the same opinion, because he hurried out from the school grounds as though they were full of demons ready to attack them.

“The Impala?” Sam asked, perplexed, as he saw the well-known car. “Is Dad here, too?”

“Nope. Get in,” Dean said curtly, pushing Sam to the front door on the passenger’s side.

Only when Dean started the engine, Sam dared to ask, “Where’s he?”

Dean shrugged indifferently. “Somewhere in Ohio, I think…”

“You _think_?”

“He gave me an order to gank a werewolf in Stapleton, Nebraska. I haven’t seen him since then.”

Sam shook his head uncomprehendingly. “He gave you an order and the car?”

“He gave me the car for my birthday and got himself a new one. It has nothing to do with the hunt.”

“So why are you here and not hunting?” Sam asked curiously, watching Dean’s face intently.

“Can’t you guess?”

“Oh… You’ve already killed it.”

Dean nodded, not giving Sam a single look.

Sam watched him for a while. “You’re still mad.”

“Yes, I am.” Dean glanced at Sam before he spoke again. “Seriously, Sam, fighting in school corridors? You’re better than that. You could take down the assholes nice and quiet somewhere private. They’re no match for you and you let them win…”

“It wasn’t like that,” Sam objected.

“Then what it was like?”

“I know I could kick their nasty asses, but I felt the urge to dig my fangs into them. I would’ve turned if I hadn’t stopped. That gave them the upper hand.”

Dean frowned. “Can’t you control it?”

Sam sighed. “Not as much as I’d wish. I train, but sometimes I think training’s not enough. Most of the time I’ve been angry and it doesn’t help much when I need to concentrate.”

“Angry, huh?” A thoughtful expression settled on Dean’s face. There was silence for a while until Dean spoke again. “That Andy kid… A friend of yours?”

Sam stared out from the window on his side, avoiding Dean’s look. “You can say that,” he muttered.

“What do you mean?” Dean demanded.

Sam fidgeted in his seat nervously. “We used to go out together, but then we kinda stopped talking to each other…”

“Wait… What? I don’t understand. A boyfriend?” Dean parked the car on the side of the road outside the town. He turned to Sam fully, confusion, disappointment and a big question reflecting in his face. “Explain.”

Sam’s forehead creased. “What do you want me to explain? I was lonely, Andy was too. We got together. What’s wrong about the fact I didn’t want to get drowned in my loneliness? You don’t know how much I miss you when you’re not here…”

“Oh, trust me, I know,” Dean said, his tone full of gravel and sandpaper. “There’s nothing bad about you wanting some life, but after all we said the last time, after my decision to take over the responsibility to make you happy, I thought it meant something…”

Sam stared at Dean for a while, his fragile heart fluttering like a butterfly in a spider web. “That’s the problem, Dean. You didn’t,” he said softly.

Dean wanted to protest, but the moment he opened his mouth, he shut it again, his face contorted in sudden realization. “Fuck Dad,” he muttered, turning away from Sam. He started the car again and pulled it on the road.

They both were silent, only Sam chanced a glance at his brother from time to time, but he couldn’t read much from Dean’s face. He spoke only when they passed by the gate of the salvage yard.

“Where are we going? You know I can’t…”

“You can,” Dean interrupted him. “You’re with me. The trunk’s loaded with weapons and there’s a gun in the glove compartment. Bobby knows, so don’t worry.”

“What are you up to?” Sam asked as he opened the glove compartment, not to check it for the gun, but to occupy himself with something. To his surprise, he found his collar there. He gave Dean a quizzical look.

“That’s in case something went wrong. And I’m up to nothing,” Dean said distractedly and closed the compartment. Their eyes met and there must have been doubt in Sam’s, because Dean grimaced. “Okay! I wanted to be alone with you for a while. We’ve never been truly alone. Is it that bad?”

Sam shook his head. “No.” He looked away to hide his smile. Alone… Only he and Dean, only the two of them, no supervisor or any other people. That was an exciting thought…

Meanwhile Dean continued in his ramble, “… It’s Friday. It’s not like you have any homework to do or anywhere to be…”

“No, I don’t,” Sam agreed, which stopped Dean for a moment.

Dean glanced at Sam. “Okay… Uh… I’m leaving on Monday. While you’re at school so that you don’t see me leaving…”

This was something new. They had never known before how much time they had, but now Sam didn’t need to worry about Dean’s departure till Monday. He wasn’t sure if it calmed him down or made him fear the day.

“Okay,” he said in a low voice.

Dean took a turn on a dusty path into a meadow. He made sure they were far enough from the road until he stopped the Impala. Sam was curious what his brother was up to. He followed him out from the car to the trunk from where Dean dug two cans of soda, handing one to Sam. Then he walked past the car to sit down on the hood. Sam did the same.

They opened their cans and drank in silence; Dean seemed to be thinking about something.

“I don’t understand one thing, Sammy,” Dean said finally. “When we talked on the phone, you said you loved me…”

“Yes, but I shouldn’t have. It was a mistake. I mustn’t make you feel responsible for how I feel. Anyway, you said yourself it was wrong. And you have Jenna, she likes you…”

Dean sighed. “I don’t have Jenna. I left her twice and I can’t expect from her to wait for me. She didn’t the first time. To be honest, Sammy, I’m kinda glad. I liked her, but…” he shrugged and drank from his can. “As for the other thing…” He looked at Sam. “According to general opinion, it _is_ wrong. But you said it was a Protector thing. It means forever, doesn’t it.”

Sam blushed, casting his look to the half-empty can in his hands. “Yes,” he muttered. “But it’s not like I expect you to…” He fell silent, staring at Dean’s offered hand. He chanced a look at his brother, who only nodded encouragingly. Sam put his hand into Dean’s, feeling the instant flow of emotions.

He was confused at first. Dean was trying to show him something, but Sam couldn’t figure what it was. He wasn’t mad or sad, not even disappointed. He was comfortable and full of expectation… and hopeful. Yes, the hope was strong. But where was its source? Nothing felt different, it was Dean through and through, only this time there wasn’t any dominant emotion that would have distracted Sam.

Or…

Sam gasped, wide eyes staring at Dean.

“What?” Dean laughed, amused.

“You… I… Jesus, I was so stupid!”

Dean laughed again as Sam dropped his can and threw himself into Dean’s arms. How could he be so ignorant? It was there, always there, every time they touched Sam could feel it and he had never given it a second thought since he had already been used to it from his childhood. There was a small shift, development, but it was still _that_ , still Dean, the very core of his being.

Dean dropped his can as well, holding Sam tightly as though he were the greatest treasure.

“Sammy.”

“Hm?”

“So that you know, I don’t tolerate any boyfriends.”

Sam chuckled. “Jealous?”

“Shut up.”

 


	10. Crossing the Line

 

When they got back, they met Bobby in the yard.

“Everything okay again between you two?”

Dean gave him a big grin. “Everything’s fine.”

“Was about time,” Bobby muttered and left them alone. They didn’t even see Pamela for the rest of the day until the evening when she found them in the living room watching TV, their bodies touching as they were sitting on the floor next to each other, leaning against the couch, their ankles hooked together. Bobby was studying some heavy book at his desk, totally ignoring the two boys. Pamela gave all of them a scrutinizing look, but didn’t say anything and left for the kitchen to bring herself beer.

The boys went to sleep early that night.

“Something’s different about them,” Pamela said when they were out of Sam’s earshot.

“Yup, they made up finally,” Bobby replied, not even lifting his head from the book.

“Thank God for that, but this is something else. Sam’s glowing. And Dean looks calmer than I’ve seen him in years.”

Bobby glanced at her, unimpressed. “Do you wanna go upstairs and check whether they crossed the line? If they did, you’ll hardly do anything about it.”

She grimaced. “I’m not saying I’m not happy for them, but… they’re brothers. It shouldn’t be like that.”

“They shouldn’t have been separated in the first place. Their mother shouldn’t have died. Their father shouldn’t be seeking revenge. Dean shouldn’t have seen so much death and violence and Sam shouldn’t even have been born as his Protector. They shouldn’t know what being truly lonely means. But they do. And if this is the best thing that happened to them, so be it. Both of them deserve a little bit of happiness. They didn’t get much of it so far and I doubt they ever will.”

Pamela crossed her arms. “So you don’t mind?”

Bobby shrugged indifferently. “As long as they keep it to themselves, I don’t.”

“John won’t be pleased,” she pointed out.

“Since when do you care what John thinks?”

“I don’t. I’m just saying that if he finds out, they’ll be in deep trouble.”

Bobby closed the book. “Then we’ll have to make sure he won’t.”

Pamela snorted, but said nothing more.

Meanwhile upstairs Sam and Dean got to bed. Lying next to each other, not talking, not touching, just smiling like idiots and looking into each other’s eyes… It felt stupid but nice and for the first time since Sam could remember he was truly happy.

Dean’s index finger brushed the back of his hand, starting an explosion of deepest, sweetest feelings. Sam’s head spun and he had to close his eyes for a moment.

“Too much?”

Sam nodded, opening his eyes again and looking at Dean. They smiled. Dean took Sam’s hand into his, making his brother gasp with love overload. He chuckled as Sam was catching his breath, but he didn’t try to push Dean away.

“Still breathing?” Dean asked, smirking.

Sam grinned, his chest heaving in a fast rhythm. “Still.”

Dean’s hand started sliding slowly from Sam’s hand to his shoulder. Sam didn’t move, his eyes locked with Dean’s, a slight smile playing on his lips.

“Okay?”

“Coping.”

“Not gonna come into your PJ?”

Sam shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe I’ll have a wet dream when I curl up on your chest.”

Dean laughed. “I’m not sure whether to call it gross or hot.”

Sam grinned. “Call it wet. That’s what it is.”

Dean pulled Sam closer. “Are we gonna sleep?”

“Do you wanna sleep?”

“I don’t know. It’s still early.”

“You can hug me more,” Sam said with invitation in his undertone.

Dean ran his hand through Sam’s hair. “Are you really okay? Isn’t it too overwhelming?” he asked carefully.

Sam smiled, bending over Dean. “It is, but it’s okay. I have to learn to have control over it.” His gaze dropped to Dean’s lips as though he was contemplating whether to kiss him or it was too much for him right now.

Dean solved his dilemma when he took Sam’s head into his hands and pressed a kiss on his forehead. “Good night, Sammy.”

Sam cuddled up to Dean, resting his head on Dean’s chest and listening to his quick heartbeat. Dean was as excited as Sam, there was no doubt about it.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

“Perfect,” Dean whispered, hugging his brother gently.

“Good night.”

In the morning when Pamela came to wake Sam up for the run, she found the bed empty. Her first question when she met Bobby in the kitchen was, “Where are they?”

“Running,” Bobby said and drank from his morning coffee.

“Alone?”

“Why not? Dean can take care of Sam and I made sure both of them were armed.”

Pamela sized him up suspiciously. “Sam too? He didn’t change?”

“Nope.”

“He always changes.”

“Not this time.” 

“Aren’t you worried?”

“For their safety or the care Dean will take of Sam while they are supposed to be running? The former’s been worrying me since day one. The latter...We have to trust them.”

“Do you really trust two teenage boys whose hormones have no idea about responsibility?” Pamela asked incredulously.

Bobby put the mug with his coffee away. “What do you want me to do? To forbid them being together?”

“No, you know that’s not what I mean.”

“If we try to mix between them, they’ll find another way, but we’ll lose control over the things that are going on between them and we won’t be able to protect them anymore. I want to give them a sanctuary where they can feel safe and free as much as possible. For that I need them to trust me. That’s why I need to trust them. Only that way I can be there when they need my help.”

Pamela snorted. “I just hope you’re doing the right thing… Didn’t they get up sooner?”

Bobby nodded. “They did. They went to sleep early, so it’s no surprise.”

“Hm… I didn’t expect them to really go to sleep…”

Bobby shrugged. “Seems like they’re not that bad, are they?”

Pamela didn’t bother to reply. She had her own theory. She wanted to pour herself some coffee as well when she heard voices coming from outside. “They’re back,” she said and looked out from the window. Dean was just explaining something to Sam, showing Sam a few fighting tricks. Sam was listening intently and then imitated Dean’s movements. Dean watched him with a careful eye, smiling as Sam repeated the action correctly. They stood face to face, concentrating on each other. Dean gave a curt nod and Sam attacked immediately. Dean blocked him effectively. They froze in the movement, Dean explaining something to Sam again, Sam nodding in understanding.

“What are they doing?” Bobby asked serenely.

“Sparring,” Pamela said, still hanging on her theory that this was just testing waters and sooner or later (she more expected sooner than later) they’d be all over each other, making out somewhere in private. She didn’t trust teenagers to use their upper brains. Well… not for too long.

She drank her coffee and ate her breakfast, Bobby meanwhile moved into the living room, looking for some spell or whatever, she didn’t ask.

Two loud shots echoed from outside and she ran from the house to check what it was. She found out it was only Dean training shooting with Sam… Sam showed much more interest in the activity than any time before. She knew it was because Dean was the one teaching him.

“You’re good with a pistol, but have you ever tried to shoot with a shotgun?” Dean asked as he checked the two holes very close to each other almost in the middle of a target.

“A couple times,” Sam said.

Dean nodded and brought a shotgun from the trunk of the Impala. He loaded it and handed to Sam. “Here.”

Pamela watched with interest. Sam aimed, but didn’t shoot yet. Bobby joined Pamela outside and together they watched Dean check the way Sam held the gun. “Higher, Sammy.”

Sam raised the shotgun a little bit.

“Good. Now shoot.”

The shot wasn’t as good as from the pistol, but it wasn’t bad at all. Dean grinned contentedly. “You’ll shoot a few more times and you’ll be a pro.”

Sam flushed, but the broad smile that settled on his face was eloquent enough. As far as Pamela remembered, this was his best result from a new gun ever.

“How about a rifle?” Dean asked.

“Haven’t tried yet.”

“All right. We’ll try that one tomorrow. Today we’ll train the shotgun.”

It took Sam only two more shots to shoot as precisely as with a pistol. Dean was blooming with pride of his younger brother, who was shooting with much more confidence now.

“Huh, knowing their father, I’d never have expected Dean to be such a patient teacher,” Bobby commented.

“I think you know where the patience comes from,” Pamela replied quietly.

“I don’t think it comes only from their bond. Dean can be very patient in general when something really important to him is concerned.”

“You know that doesn’t calm me down…”

“At least they’ll take it slow,” Bobby said and returned into the house.

“Hey, guys!” Pamela called, catching the boys’ attention. “Have you eaten already?”

Sam and Dean exchanged an amused grin. “No!” Dean called back. “We’re coming!”

“Good. Shower and I’ll fix you breakfast in the meantime.”

At some point, she expected them to just get lost somewhere out of sight, but they really seemed to have their horniness under control. They trained the whole day. After breakfast Dean showed Sam how to dismantle a shotgun and how to put it together again, they sparred some more and shot. Dean showed Sam the most vulnerable spots on a human body and taught him to give first aid. They talked a lot about what was important, about monsters and how to gank them, about demons and exorcism, about ghosts and salt rings. They filled gun shells with salt. They drew protecting sigils and Devil’s Traps until Sam memorized them. They went for an evening run. Even when they watched TV in the evening, they kept their hands to themselves, only the occasional fond smiles and exchanged looks gave them away.

It was neither too early nor very late when they went to bed.

“Was today okay for you?” Dean asked, and his brother knew he wasn’t asking whether Sam had fun. Both of them had a lot of fun. They were together and that was what counted. But there was this other thing under the surface, much tougher thing, the training of self-control.

Sam smiled. “I was fine… mostly. The rest of the time I wanted to jump you.”

Dean grinned. “Lustful much.”

“I can feel every shift in your emotions, Dean, and you’ve given me a hard time today.”

“Sorry,” Dean said, but he didn’t sound sorry at all. “Wanna forget the self-control for a while?”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, scared to avert his gaze as he was staring into the depth of Dean’s beautiful green eyes. His breathing quickened and his heart was beating loudly. He wondered how come Dean couldn’t hear it.

Dean moved closer, propping himself on his elbow. “This,” he whispered, his eyes still locked with Sam’s. Gentle fingers touched Sam’s arm, causing a shock to his oversensitive body. A wild stream of emotions filled his veins, flooding his every cell with Dean’s love so strong and heavy Sam could hardly breathe.

“Please,” he begged, not completely sure for what.

Dean bent over him, the fingers sliding from Sam’s arm to his face. Sam sighed and closed his eyes, his lips parted, inviting.

The first touch was soft, experimental, and Sam really didn’t get how he could kiss his brother when he was younger without his body giving such a strong reaction. Maybe because they had been children who hadn’t understood desire and therefore their love had been pure and innocent. That time it was just a tingle in his muscles. But now it was a tidal wave that simply swept him away. He could feel deep in his bones, in his every cell and fiber, that Dean wanted him, wanted him more than anyone else, loved him more than he loved himself. Sam wasn’t sure it was right for Dean to feel like that, he only knew it made him endlessly happy. He wanted to be everything for Dean, because Dean was everything for him. It was only fair, right?

The press of Dean’s lips became stronger, more demanding, and Sam opened his mouth, letting Dean in.

If the touch of Dean’s hand on his face and the press of lips on lips electrified every single molecule in his body, the touch of their tongues brought true explosion. He moaned into Dean’s mouth.

Dean pulled away immediately. “You okay?” he asked softly.

“I’m losing it. It’s too much,” Sam whispered.

“Shall I back off?”

“No, just… give me some time to catch my breath.”

Dean smiled, caressing Sam’s cheek with his thumb. “You have all the time of the world.”

Sam leaned into the touch. “I don’t need that much,” he chuckled, looking into Dean’s adoring eyes. He touched Dean’s chest lightly, sliding his hand up toward his neck, there he hesitated, but Dean’s smile was the encouragement he needed. He put his hand on the nape of Dean’s neck and pulled him down for another kiss.

He knew that for normal people fireworks and exploding supernovas were just figures of speech used by poets, but Sam wasn’t a normal human being and he wasn’t a poet either. He was living his personal carnival in Rio de Janeiro right here, right now; each swipe of Dean’s tongue in his mouth meant a new eruption of a volcano inside of him and he was melting, his blood feeling like red-hot lava running through his veins. He couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t care.

Dean pulled away, studying Sam’s face. A broad grin brightened his face and mischief sparkled in his eyes. “Hm, judging from the pressure of that hard thing poking me in the hip, I’m being pretty successful in my mission to keep you happy.”

Sam smiled. “Shut up. It’s just a side effect of the emotion overload.” He closed his eyes, breathing quickly, but the smile never left his lips.

“Are you all right?” Dean asked, and Sam could hear concern in his undertone.

“Never better,” he replied, and he meant it. He squinted at Dean from under half-raised eyelids and graced his brother with a broad grin.

Dean wasn’t smiling. He was watching Sam with interest.

“What’s up?” Sam asked, his hand touching Dean’s chest carefully, giving it a small caress.

Dean took Sam’s hand into his and pressed a kiss on the knuckles. “I can make you feel even better… if you want… It’s up to you, but… It must be uncomfortable… And I… I don’t mind. I’d…”

Chill ran up Sam’s spine and he put a hand on Dean’s mouth to silence him. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to disappoint Dean, but he couldn’t…  Just couldn’t.

He plastered a smile on his face again. “Not now, I’m tired. Let’s go to sleep?” he offered.

“Okay, fine,” Dean said and let Sam push him on the mattress.

Sam cuddled up to his brother, head resting on Dean’s chest as usual and his ear pressed to the ribcage in which Dean’s heart was beating. He was aware of his hard-on poking Dean’s hip, but it couldn’t be helped in this position. Well, it was mostly Dean’s fault that Sam was hard, anyway…  Dean didn’t protest. He stroked Sam’s back before he wished him good night. Sam purred contentedly, feeling the light shiver that ran through Dean’s body.

Sam’s brother was aroused…

The night was torture. Dean woke up several times. The first time it was thanks to Sam sleeping sprawled across his brother’s chest and making Dean’s breathing hard. The second time it was Sam (again), humping Dean’s hip as he slept. The third time it was Sam’s wet dream. Sam kept sleeping peacefully despite the wet spot between their bodies. The fourth time it was the dream Dean had. He and Sam were making love (Jesus, Dean didn’t know it was so bad with him) and just before the happy ending he woke up.

He decided it was enough. The sun was rising behind the window and he and Sam would go for the morning run soon, anyway, so why to stay in bed? The only thing that could prevent him from putting his plan into practice was his teenage brother with his head pressed to Dean’s side and an arm wound around Dean’s waist and his leg hooked with Dean’s. Okay, it could be a little tricky to unwind this knot without waking Sam up sooner than necessary.

He moved, pulled away just a little bit, and Sam was awake at once. Dean sighed. He should have known by now that escaping his brother from bed (usually from anywhere) was a futile effort.

“Mmmm… Where’re you goin’?” Sam asked sleepily as Dean untangled their legs with a little effort.

“Shhh, just the bathroom,” he said, patting Sam’s shoulder gently.

“To jerk off?” Sam yawned and stretched on the bed like an oversized puppy.

Dean stiffened, giving his brother a suspicious glance. “It’ll make your upstairs brain melt and the downstairs act again, right?”

“I’m afraid…”

“You should learn to control it.”

“It’s not so easy,” Sam rubbed his eyes and sat up. “It’s almost as overwhelming as your touch. Your scent intensifies… I swear you excrete some kind of pheromones to which everyone is immune but me. Does that make sense?”

Dean gaped. _What?_ Was Sam making fun of him? But Sam’s eyes were full of sincerity as he stared at Dean.

“I… I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it,” Dean stammered, transfixed by the intensity of Sam’s look.

“What are we gonna do?” Sam asked, and there was the well-known undertone in his voice – the hope that the big brother would solve the problem.

But the big brother had no clue this time. “What do you wanna do?” he asked instead.

Sam gave a curt, low whine and before Dean could do anything, he was practically sitting in Dean’s lap, arms wrapped around his neck, and kissing him with the passion Dean had experienced last night, damn the morning breath obviously.

Sam shivered as their skin came into contact and Dean knew that his excitement reached Sam’s cells. Sam wasn’t gentle and shy as Dean would have expected, but eager and demanding, capturing Dean’s mouth and kissing the life out of him. Dean would have died and he wouldn’t even have noticed…

Sam pulled away only for a moment to catch his breath, ready to seal their mouths together again as soon as his lungs accepted the so needed amount of oxygen, but Dean grabbed his arms and held him in a safe distance.

“Sammy, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said with effort, his attention occupied by the tip of Sam’s tongue captured between his lips.

Sam licked his mouth. “Your body says something else,” he said matter-of-factly as he took a deep breath.

It wasn’t the shiver of his body that gave Sam away, but Dean’s reflection in the depth of wide pitch-black pupils rimmed with thin circles of hazel irises. Dean was staring into those eyes, so mysterious, so hypnotizing, seeing lust in its purest form.

Jesus, Sam was only _thirteen_! And yet he was shamelessly reaching under Dean’s pajama top, mouth demanding kisses, hips rocking in a steady rhythm. Dean was all too well aware of the wetness in his own pants.

Sam was all over him, kissing him hungrily, _biting_ passionately, licking the heated skin, licking off the sweat rolling down Dean’s temples… sniffing, breathing Dean’s scent…

Only for a moment Dean contemplated the thought of stopping Sam, of stopping this and dealing with their erections in another, safer way, but then Sam gave that low, guttural growl as his teeth dug carefully into his brother’s throat, sending an electrifying shiver down Dean’s spine right into his cock pressed firmly to Sam’s. He couldn’t stop the excited moan that escaped his mouth, all his restraints going right to hell. He grabbed Sam’s face and kissed him hard – like a man.

Sam whimpered, kissing back wildly, his hands under Dean’s pajamas reaching the chest of the older boy and pushing him down on the crumpled sheets. Dean had two choices: grab Sam’s hands, roll him down on the bed and take over the lead or submit and see how far Sam would go.

Forgive Dean, but he was curious. Sam was totally in a trance, wild, ferocious, animalistic, going right for Dean’s mouth again, all teeth and saliva, hands pressed to Dean’s skin, fingers splayed and digging into hard muscles, fire burning in his eyes.

“Jesus, Sammy, slow down,” Dean said as Sam rolled his pajama top to his neck, lapping at his collarbone.

He was ignored, of course.

Dean could feel the tip of Sam’s nose touching his chest. Sam took a deep breath and he started moving down Dean’s body, placing soft, wet kisses to his skin. Dean shivered, indulging in the sensation until Sam reached his belly…

Things went fast from that point. Sam hooked his fingers in the waistband of Dean’s pajama bottoms and pulled them down, freeing the treasure hiding there only to sheath it with his mouth, and he sucked as if his life depended on it.  Dean yelped, he didn’t expect that, but made no attempt to stop his brother. Sam turned his brain into jelly and Dean was unable to think coherently, not not mention managing any protest. Sam’s mouth on his cock felt so good and so natural that trying to halt him felt like a crime…

Yet, there was this one thing that kept bugging Dean while Sam’s tongue worked miracles on his oversensitive cock. The blowjob was messy and there was too much saliva involved and usually Sam obviously didn’t have a clue what he was doing, but he did it nevertheless with so much passion and eagerness that it mostly made up for the lack of skills. There was no shame, guilt or elementary awkwardness which left Dean to wonder if Sam had some experience. He was the older brother after all, he was the one who was supposed to teach Sammy things, in life and in bed, he was supposed to give first lessons (even when he didn’t know anything about the matter), so how come it was Sam with Dean’s cock deep in his throat and not Dean with Sam’s?

Even if it was so hard to talk (and think, especially think), he had to ask. The though was like a worm feeding on the mush his brain turned into, so yeah, it was vitally important to ask that out loud, otherwise Dean would end up with just half of his brain and diagnosis ‘blown to stupidity’. Dean couldn’t allow Sam to suck his brain out completely and that way become the smarter brother. No, Dean was older, so it was _his_ privilege.

So he forced his brain to work and his mouth to form a sentence (even though its fluency was questionable) and asked, interrupting his speech with heavy pants, “Sammy… Sammy… Did you… and Andy… Did you two…?”

Sam raised his head, giving Dean a half-glare expressing his unhappiness with the interruption. “What? Try a blowjob? We didn’t get that far. You’re my first,” he said and went back to his work.

 _Sam’s first,_ resonated in Dean’s head, and that was the thing his overexcited brain cells were eagerly waiting for – an impulse to join their power and send the impulse down to his crotch. _I’m Sammy’s first…_

“Then you’re freaking talented,” he panted, the thought of being the first in Sammy’s mouth driving him to the edge. He wanted to warn Sam, he really did, but he was too slow (brain turned into an oversensitive mush, remember?). The orgasm grabbed him with full force, making him gasp for air, and only Sam’s cough told him that something wasn’t perfectly okay, but then the warmth was back on his dick, working Dean through his orgasm.

Sam left Dean’s cock with a pop sound, the bitch licking his mouth lasciviously. “You surprised me,” he said before he wiped with his hand the drop of come he couldn’t get with his tongue and then licked it away as though it was the tastiest treat.

“Didn’t mean to, sorry,” Dean responded with effort, still catching his breath.

Sam wriggled between his legs, sliding his hand up Dean’s belly. “It was okay.”

“I almost choked you.”

“It was my fault I didn’t pay better attention to your feelings,” Sam said and pressed a kiss under Dean’s navel. Then he took a deep breath. “God, you smell heavenly!”

The corners of Dean’s mouth curled up. “Yeah?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

“Come here, kiddo, time to take care of you,” Dean said, pulling his pajama bottoms back up. The glance at Sam’s stiffened figure and suddenly pale face made him stop and pay full attention to his brother. “What’s up?”

“N-nothing,” Sam stammered, glancing at the alarm clock on the bedside table. “It’s late. I’ll use the bathroom. I’ll be quick, promise,” Sam said quickly and pecked Dean’s cheek. He hurried out from bed and rummaged through his clothes to find something to wear.

Dean sat up on the bed. “Are you all right, Sammy?”

Sam turned to Dean as though something stung him. He gave a nervous, self-conscious smile. “Sure, everything’s fine. I’ll take the shower and I’ll be okay.” Then he practically ran out from the room.

“Not fishy at all,” Dean said to himself and crawled out of bed as well.

It took Sam almost a half-hour to leave the bathroom which was even weirder considering his words. When Dean knocked on the bathroom door, Sam said he needed a little more time. He sounded rather breathless. Dean thought that in a couple of minutes Sam would be out from there, but it took good ten minutes until the door of the bathroom finally opened. There was too much color in Sam’s cheeks and he avoided looking at Dean. To be honest, he avoided being close to Dean until they got back from the run. When Dean asked again if Sam was all right, his brother gave a shy smile and said, “It’s your scent…”

“Still too strong?”

Sam snorted dismissively and laughed without a trace of humor in his voice. “Go shower, you’re sweaty as hell.”

“So it’s my sweat now?”

“It’s your entire being, jerk.” Sam grinned, a bit more relaxed.

“Bitch,” Dean responded automatically, but he couldn’t help a smile. Sam seemed better. Probably, it was really just Dean’s magnified scent that had been driving Sam crazy and therefore the tension and keeping his distance – to maintain self-control.

Sam went to shower after Dean; this time it didn’t take him as long as in the morning.

They met Pamela in the kitchen when they came there for breakfast. She graced them both with a glare. “You left me behind again,” she said reproachfully. While Sam stammered his awkward “sorry”, Dean only shrugged and grinned sassily.

“What are your plans for today?” Pamela asked as she served them toasts with marmalade.

“More training, I guess,” Dean said, keeping his voice strictly indifferent, but in reality he looked forward to more feeling up his brother while teaching him new fighting tricks.

“I’m really glad you use your time so wisely. You’re both doing very well,” Pamela said, her voice having the same cadence as Dean’s.

“Thanks,” Dean said before he bit into his toast. He knew he was doing well; his life depended on doing his best. As for Sammy, on the other hand… Sammy needed to learn to do his best if he wanted to survive out there. And the kid was doing really great, Dean was very proud of him.

Primarily, he had come to spend time with his brother and build on the cornerstone of their developing not so brotherly relationship. He hadn’t expected that the development would be so fast. Not that he was complaining, of course, he felt insanely happy, but it was also kind of scary. Sam channeled his feelings, which was good, considering Dean didn’t need to say anything out loud, but they were absolutely overwhelming in their magnified power. Neither Dean nor Sam counted on it and now they were swept by the intensity of their emotions.

Therefore they both needed to learn self-control. Training provided sufficient distraction; it not only helped them to direct their attention somewhere else, but they also did something useful. And they were doing that something together, which was the most important part.

“I can see both of you are able to defend yourselves,” Pamela continued while Dean was chewing his toast contentedly.

It was Sam who made him lift his head from his breakfast when he asked, “What’s the matter, Pam?”

“When I watched you two yesterday,” she started, giving them a serious look, “I realized that separately, you obviously know how to kick ass. The question is if you could do it as well if you had to do it together. Would you be able to work like a Pair or would you just be in each other’s way?”

Dean gazed at her. “What?”

Pamela rolled her eyes. “And Sam says you’re smart… I’m talking about working together, Dean. Not only common people need to know the persons they work with. Pairs need to learn cooperation as well.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Do you wanna train us?”

“If you’re ready for such training.”

Dean turned to Sam. “What do you say?”

Sam took a long, deep breath, glancing at Pamela, and a slight but obvious shiver ran through his body.

Dean would swear Pamela was about to slap her forehead in frustration, but she caught herself just in time.

“It’ll teach you to have better control over the emotion overload as well,” she said to Sam dryly.

Sam’s eyes went wide, then he blushed and pulled an inch or two away from his brother. Pamela smirked and Dean got a strong feeling that she knew. He didn’t have time to dwell on that thought, because she was already moving out from the kitchen with Sam at her heels. Dean followed them quickly from the house.

“Sam understood it right,” Pamela said as three of them stood in the yard. “The cooperation between Warriors and Protectors is, in its very core, based on their ability to sense each other, to predict the intentions of each other, to always have each other’s back. Literally, it’s putting your lives into each other’s hands. It’s an unconditional trust. It’s not an easy task, I know. To be able to do so you have to know not only each other through and through, but primarily yourselves.”

Dean folded his arms on his chest and listened. This started being interesting.

“This type of training is something you can do only when you are together. It reveals how much damage the separation did to you…” Pamela sighed heavily as she sized up the two of them. “Sam,” she addressed the younger brother first. “Your keen senses are of very good use to you and they help you a lot. But they are not always enough. You should be able to find Dean wherever he is, to anticipate his next moves and to tame his war fire. You also should be able to sense the imminent danger and protect your Warrior from it. That’s something that surpasses the ability of your senses. It’s a Protector thing that comes from the bond you have with Dean. To be honest, I don’t know anyone whose bond was subjected to such a hard trial as yours. You have to learn many things. You have to learn to feel each other – something you should be able to do instinctively and not be taught to do…”

She huffed angrily as she finished, not looking either at Sam or Dean as if she were ashamed for what she was thinking. Dean knew she never agreed with John in the matter of separation, she always wanted the boys to grow up together and, secretly, Dean agreed with her.

Pamela took a deep breath and turned to the older Winchester this time. “I don’t expect Sam to have any problem with regaining his lost knowledge. He can already say when you’re coming for a visit, but he’s still far from being able to sense when you’re in danger...”

Dean looked at Sam, surprised. “You can really do that?”

Sam shrugged and nodded, a little smile curled his lips.

“Wow, you’re a true dog,” Dean said with a roguish grin.

“Are you done? This is important, so listen up,” Pamela interrupted impatiently. “Dean, even though you’ll never be able to reach such a high level of sensitivity as Sam, you can sharpen your sixth sense for your Protector to the extent when you are able to say how far from you he is and where approximately. You’ll be able to say when he’s in pain or frightened. ”

Dean sighed, scratching in his hair and giving Pamela a puppy look. “Sounds like sci-fi to me right now…”

“You haven’t even tried yet,” she scolded him.

“Fine, fine… What am I supposed to do?”

She beckoned to them to follow her into the garage.

“Sit down,” she said as they reached the wooden table. The boys sat down on the benches facing each other and waited for Pamela to tell them what she had in mind.

“Fine. Now concentrate…”

Sam and Dean looked at each other, smiles tugging at the corners of their mouths…

“I said ‘concentrate’, not ‘gaze into each other’s eyes longingly’.”

Sam winced and cast his look down while Dean gave Pamela a suspicious look.

“Concentrate on the bond. On the feeling of it. What can you feel?”

“I don’t know what you want to hear,” Dean said.

Pamela sighed. “Sam?”

Sam took a deep breath, glancing at Dean. “Faith,” he said in the most serious tone that Dean had ever heard from him.

“And?” Pamela pressed.

“Hope,” Sam added, and then a gentle smile curled his lips as he locked his eyes with Dean’s. “And a few things I’d like to keep for myself.”

Dean sniggered. “Are you going to be smartass about it?”

Sam stuck out his tongue at him, but grinned.

“Okay, now close your eyes, Sam,” Pamela instructed, and the younger boy did as he was told, the smile still present on his lips. “And Dean, you put your hand on the table.”

Dean gave Pamela a look as if he doubted her mental health, but his hand touched the table hesitantly nevertheless.

“Perfect. Sam, you ready?”

Sam nodded slowly.

“Good. You have only one try. Touch Dean’s hand.”

There was an expression of deep concentration in Sam’s face. He lifted his hand, paused for a moment, and then let it descend unerringly on top of Dean’s, flipping it around and slipping it right into Dean’s palm. Dean curled his fingers around Sam’s instinctively, looking at their joined hands more confused than anything else.

“And this proved what exactly?” he asked, still holding Sam’s hand.

Pamela raised an eyebrow. “Wanna try it yourself?”

“Sure, whatever…”

Dean let go of Sam’s hand, closing his eyes. He wasn’t sure what this exercise was about. Touching Sam’s hand resting on the table couldn’t be that hard, could it? To his surprise, he missed his brother’s hand by an inch or two.

“Oh…”

“Well?” Pamela gave him that knowing look he hated while Sam was gazing uncomprehendingly at the little gap between their hands.

“Fine, I get it. I failed. I don’t feel anything,” Dean said, defeated.

“Don’t be stupid. It’s always been there, you only suppressed it. Now you need to pull it out.”

“How?”

“Concentrate on what you can feel, not what you can’t but you think you should.”

Dean met Sam’s eyes, looking for the answer there. What did he feel? Well, he was head over heels into his kid brother… but it couldn’t be that, could it? He closed his eyes quickly so that Sam didn’t see the embarrassment and guilt that took over Dean from time to time in the most inappropriate moments. He gave the exercise another chance… and failed again. He sighed heavily.

“It just needs practice,” Pamela said, however he could hear the disappointment in her undertone.

Dean tried many more times, but the result wasn’t much better. Sam didn’t make it easy for him, his hand was always somewhere other than where Dean expected it to be.

“We all could use a break,” Pamela announced in the end. “Sam, can you bring me and your brother beer? There should be some soda in the fridge as well.”

When Sam left, Dean raised an eyebrow at Pamela. “Beer?”

“What? You wanna tell me you’ve never drunk it? Besides, you’re not a kid anymore.”

“I’m not saying I am and that I’ve never ordered beer. But I always used a fake ID.” He grinned.

“Then shut up and enjoy the drink when Sam brings it.”

The grin fell from Dean’s mouth. “Right… I suck in this whole Warrior/Protector thing…”

Pamela sighed and sank onto the bench next to him. “As I said before, you suppressed that ability, because you didn’t need it. You always knew where you’d find Sam.” She shrugged. “Though I don’t understand it. He gives you a boner three times a day and it’s still not enough to lead you in the right way…”

Hearing her last words, Dean winced, shocked and gaping at Pamela with big, round eyes.

“What?” she said indifferently. “You think I haven’t noticed? You are more than obvious – the way you look at each other, the way you act... the way you _smell_ … I noticed it all right.”

Dean wriggled nervously. “When did this conversation become so awkward?”

“Sorry,” Pamela said, but she didn’t sound sorry at all. She sounded smug. “Look,” she continued, “I’m with Sam almost every day. I can see how he grows up, what he goes through, I know what makes him tick.”

 _You don’t need to remind me,_ Dean thought venomously. It should have been him, dammit! HE should have seen his brother grow up, should have been there for Sammy when his brother needed him.

“He’s a teenage boy,” Pamela continued, “and the calling of his dick is strong. Still, Sam learned to use it to his advantage.”

Dean groaned helplessly. “You say he’s horny enough to feel me? That’s shallow…”

“No, Dean, it’s not like that,” Pamela talked to him in a placatory tone that fueled his temper even more instead to calm him down. “Yeah, there’s a great portion of lust, but be honest with me and tell me your love is absolutely pure and innocent.”

Dean fisted his hands angrily, staring at the wooden table. “I don’t wanna talk about it. Anyway, Sam’s coming.”

“What?” Pamela gaped at him with surprise.

“Huh?” Dean gazed back. “What…? Oh fuck!” He blinked as the sudden realization hit him. He didn’t understand how, but he could feel a tiny empty space that formed inside of him after Sam had left the garage, but he hadn’t realized it had been there until Sam was coming back to fill it up again. “I can feel him,” he said slowly, eyes fixed on Pamela.

She shook her head. “Stupid me! It makes sense, of course! While Sam’s trigger is the desire to be loved by you as fiercely as he loves you, your source is the feeling of loneliness. You want him by your side. It makes perfect sense and I missed it!”

Dean didn’t response. Sam was already too close and Dean wanted to avoid the possibility of him overhearing the conversation. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his brother. He didn’t open them even when Sam was back in the garage and Pamela said they didn’t need her anymore and so she returned into the house. He also didn’t open them when Sam put the can of beer in his hands resting on the table and slid on the bench next to Dean, their thighs touching.

There was silence between them, long but comfortable that enabled Dean to focus on that part of his consciousness that told him he was not alone anymore. Sammy was there, his very presence filling the gaps, fixing the damages on Dean’s soul. The sensation of the light touch of their bodies helped, too…

A hand caressed his thigh, a slow, deliberate move from the outer side to the inner, from the knee toward the crotch, but not going all the way there. Sam pressed closer, slipping under Dean’s arm and nuzzling his neck. Dean breathed out and turned his head to Sammy; the tips of their noses touched.

Dean opened his mouth slightly and tilted his head to the side as he felt the intention radiating from his brother. Their lips met in a soft kiss, slow and unhurried, one of those he could enjoy the fullest, both the taste and the skill. It wasn’t a messy kiss from the morning when both of them had been overexcited and losing control. This one was supposed to deliver the most beautiful message Dean could think of. It was saying ‘I love you’ and ‘I care about you’ and ‘I’ll always belong to you’ and Dean’s heart ached because it was too small to contain all that happiness he felt right now. If Sammy loved him this much, then he was the happiest guy in the world.

Their mouths parted after a while, but their foreheads pressed against each other. Dean inhaled each time Sam exhaled and vice versa, the shared breaths made them feel even closer.

“So you did it,” Sam whispered, snuggling in Dean’s welcoming arms.

“I still need a lot of practice,” Dean replied, tightening his embrace.

“I can help with that,” Sam said, his hand touching Dean’s face lightly. “I’m not perfect myself.”

“You are my responsibility and I’m yours. We’ll do it together.” Dean leaned into the touch, his heart swelling with love.

“We can hardly do this separately,” Sam chuckled and pecked Dean’s lips. “Let’s move our asses,” he said with a grin and untangled from Dean’s arms. The loss shouldn’t have felt so deep if Sammy was still there, not going anywhere, only Dean wasn’t touching him anymore – but it did. Only Sam’s broad, radiant smile saved him from the cold touch of his ever-present loneliness.

“What’s your plan?” he asked as they stood up from the table, the two unopened cans standing on it completely forgotten.

Sam laughed. “Playing hide-and-seek.”

“Aren’t we a little old for that?”

“You said you needed practice.”

“Good point,” Dean said, and before he realized, Sam was running away from him into the maze of car wrecks. Dean ran after him, but Sam was damn fast and after Dean reached the first corner, he lost him from sight.

 _So hide-and-seek…_ Dean looked around, listening to the silence. He made a few careful steps, paying good attention to every shiver of his soul reaching for Sam wherever he was.

His steps became steadier as the feeling of Sam’s presence got stronger and he was sure that Sam was waiting for him just behind the corner.

Only that Sam wasn’t there and the fleeting certainty was gone with the wind. Dean frowned and tried to concentrate harder. He didn’t know that Sam changed his hiding place the very moment he sensed Dean was close. Pamela, sitting in the sun in front of the house and drinking her beer, watched Sam run from the maze. The boy grinned at her and gave her the sign to be quiet before he disappeared among the wrecks again. After a while, Dean came out from there, looking around the yard. Their eyes met, but Dean’s focus was on something other than Pamela and it felt like he didn’t even see her. And then Dean winced and ran back among the cars from where he came. It took only a few seconds for Sam to come out again, every fiber in his body ready for action. She could hear Dean’s hurried footsteps from an opposite direction and see Sam’s joy. He was about to run away again, but Dean saw him already and he didn’t allow him to get lost in the maze again. He chased him away from the cars, and Sam laughed cheerfully, not trying to run away anymore.

They didn’t see anyone else but each other. She doubted they were even aware she was still there watching them and becoming a witness of the intimacy between them. Dean locked Sam in his arms and Sam laughed, pretending for a moment that he wanted to break free, but surrendered to the stronger sibling. They were playing like the kids they still were, carefree and happy in their iridescent bubble.

Pamela felt like an intruder, still standing there and watching. She might not have approved of the course their relationship took, but she agreed with Bobby that the boys deserved a little bit of happiness.

She retreated into the house discretely and joined Bobby in the living room. She found him by his desk bent above a thick, heavy, ancient-looking book.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Looking up some stuff for John. He called a while ago,” Bobby said matter-of-factly.

“Does he know Dean’s here?”

Bobby shrugged. “If he does, it’s not from me. How did the training go?” he changed the topic.

“Fine, fine… Better than I expected.” Pamela drank from her can of beer so that she didn’t need to look at Bobby.

“What are they doing now?” Bobby asked, still not lifting his gaze from the pages.

“Chasing each other over the yard. Or making out. It’s hard to tell with the two of them…”

“Uhm,” was Bobby’s only response. He didn’t pay Pamela any more attention.

Pamela didn’t even know how much truth was in her words (though she had a hunch). Dean held Sam firmly, nuzzling his cheek, his lips following the line of the younger boy’s neck, showering it with tiny kisses. Sam stopped wriggling long ago and he completely surrendered to his brother. Tilting his head so that Dean had better access to his skin, he gave a quiet moan.

“You love this,” Dean whispered with his lips almost touching Sam’s artery. The sound of his voice was resonating through Sam’s body, making him shiver with pleasure.

“I love you,” Sam panted.

Just when he thought he couldn’t take more of that sweet feeling, there was a tidal wave of Dean’s love, sweeping the last bits of Sam’s self-control away. His inner world exploded like a supernova, flooding his every cell with heat and desire. He gasped and flexed in Dean’s arms, and acting on instinct, he attacked Dean’s mouth, kissing him hard and deep as if he wanted to suck his soul out.

The suddenness of the action surprised Dean, but he didn’t push Sam away. He kissed him back, trying to make the kiss gentler, but Sam wasn’t having any of that. He pressed his front to Dean’s in a clear sign.

He wasn’t thinking. He wasn’t able to. There was this superior power that made him forget everything and concentrate only on the basic instinct. He knew what he wanted. He wanted Dean…

It was Dean who had to stop him. Taking Sam’s face in his hands, he pulled away. Sam growled discontentedly, trying to capture Dean’s mouth again, but Dean didn’t let him.

“We should take this somewhere else,” Dean said reasonably, and Sam stopped struggling. He nodded curtly, stepping away from his big brother. He knew a good place. His place. His shelter. His temple. He licked his lips, turning around and running into the maze of junk.

Dean smiled as he saw his brother disappear behind the cars. The lean figure, still a boy, but changing into a man quickly, as pure as a lily but not innocent anymore. Dean’s little brother. Turning into a lover…


	11. Love Changes a Warrior

 

Dean was far beyond the line when he thought about the rights and wrongs of their relationship. Sammy didn’t have a choice, anyway. His love was fierce and strong and kind of scary, but safe on the other hand, exactly what Dean needed right now. Sometimes he thought he was losing the solid ground under his feet, and that he was drowning in shit and Dad’s bloodlust. He desperately needed a place where he could forget all his cruelty and the ruthlessness he had to show the world. Sam was his haven of hope and safety. Sam was his light in the darkness.

He walked unhurriedly through the maze, letting his sixth sense for Sam lead him in the right way (despite the fact he knew where Sam went, but he wanted to make this an exercise).

He found him in the jeep just like he expected, Sam was just trying to shutter the windows facing the house with his shirt and undershirt. Dean could see and admire the forming muscles under the smooth skin, follow every line of Sam’s arms, of his shoulders, of his back right to the waistband of his jeans, and he knew he was the only one who could touch the beauty that was yet to bloom into its magnificence. Dean never doubted that Sam was going to grow into a gorgeous man. His man. He could see their future as clearly as never before. The two of them together, the Warrior and the Protector, bound with love and life. Hunters. Lovers. But Sam needed a few more years until he was ready…  

Sam turned around in the backseat, giving Dean a broad, dimpled smile – an invitation for whatever was going to happen.

Dean slid into the car, no words needed as he sought Sam’s mouth, connecting with him in a slow, open-mouthed kiss.

Sam reciprocated in a much calmer manner than in the yard, the heat from before turned into something more sensual. He shifted a bit, lying down on the seat slowly, pulling Dean atop of him, neither of them breaking the kiss. Dean slipped between Sam’s thighs so easily, so naturally, as if he had always belonged there. Sam hooked his one leg over Dean’s hip, the other dangling from the seat. Their crotches came into close contact, their arousals filling their jeans, and Dean started rocking his hips slightly, denim rubbing against denim…

Sam gave a low, guttural growl, his fingers digging into Dean’s back, and he pressed his crotch to Dean’s more firmly, demanding more of that sensation. He bit Dean’s lower lip gently but decisively, licking the place subsequently as if he wanted to apologize. Dean kissed him deep in response to let him know he was not having that crap. Sam mewled into his mouth, his hands on Dean’s waist, pushing him down.

“God, Sammy, impatient much?” Dean grinned at his brother.

Sam smiled back, his eyes misted with desire. He puffed out a short breath and loosened the grip on Dean a little.

Dean removed a strand of hair sticking to Sam’s sweaty forehead and nuzzled Sam’s neck before he graced it with a kiss as light as the touch of a butterfly’s wings. “I don’t want this to be over in a few minutes,” he whispered into Sam’s ear and slid his hand down Sam’s bare torso.

Sam closed his eyes and purred.

“Sammy,” Dean sighed against his brother’s skin. “My Sammy…”

“Yours. Always yours,” Sam agreed, hugging Dean, seeking his mouth again.

Dean kissed him lovingly, his hand wandering over Sammy’s still boy’s chest.

“Tell me,” he started with his mouth touching Sam’s face lightly, “did he…?” He ran his hand up Sam’s chest in an eloquent gesture.

“No,” Sam breathed out, turning his head to look at Dean. “He never got higher than this.” He touched Dean’s hand and placed it right above his waistband.

“But he did lower.”

“Only once. And he will never again.”

Sam’s voice was soft, almost inaudible, but it sounded like a promise for eternity.

“No, never again,” Dean said firmly, kissing Sam deep and hard while rubbing his crotch against Sam’s demandingly. “No one will touch you like that ever again. Only I can do that.”

Sam gasped for air, flexing under Dean. His body was shivering all over and even Dean could feel the wetness spreading in Sam’s jeans. Jesus, that was hot!

“No one will,” Sam whispered, covering his eyes. “No one…”

No one… Only Dean had that right. Only he had the right to thrust against Sam’s lean body like an animal in rut, only he had the right to kiss his burning skin, to lick the sweat from his temples. Only he had the right to take Sam’s arm away from his beautiful hazel eyes and say, “Look at me, Sammy”. Only he was allowed to reach orgasm, pressed to that wonderful being whose heart belonged to him forever.

Sam was looking at him, his breathing ragged. He seemed he didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he grabbed the door handle above his head while Dean was thrusting against him none too gently, coming into his pants.

“Sammy,” Dean moaned and kissed his brother. Sam was rather unresponsive, still shaking like a leaf in the wind, clutching the door handle convulsively. Dean pulled away, studying Sam’s face scrunched with evident unhappiness. “What’s up? Did I hurt you?” Seeing that face, he was worried that he had done something Sam didn’t like, that he had pushed too hard in the heat of the moment.

But Sam shook his head, yet the gloomy expression didn’t leave his face.

“Then?” Dean pushed himself up from Sam’s body.

Sam gasped again, still trembling, still clenching the handle.

Dean cast his look on Sam’s crotch, and… “Holy shit!”

Sam closed his eyes tightly and turned his head away, but otherwise he stayed motionless. There, between his legs, his jeans were _soaked_.

“Sam, you… have you…?”

“I didn’t, fuck dammit!” Sam cried, outraged, looking daggers at Dean. “I haven’t pissed myself like a baby, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” Dean said in a placatory tone, trying to get from Sam’s reach. “But then… what the hell?”

Sam shut his mouth, glaring at Dean, his chest heaving in a fast rhythm.

“What’s that, Sammy?” Dean wasn’t willing to give up so easily.

“Leave me alone.”

“What?” Now Dean was the one starting being pissed.

Sam looked again at him, biting his lip nervously. When he spoke, his voice was trembling almost as much as his body. “Give me fifteen minutes… or ten. Ten should be enough. Please…” he begged.

Dean gazed at him, perplexed. “Are you telling me you’ll be leaking like a broken washing machine for fifteen more minutes?”

Sam didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. He had it all written in his guilty face.

“Dammit, Sam,” Dean cursed and then sighed. “I’ll bring you clean pants.”

He opened the door and got out of the jeep. Sam still didn’t move, watching Dean with a silent apology in his eyes.

“I’ll be right back,” Dean said as calmly as he could.

“Don’t hurry,” Sam said. His keen ears caught his brother’s mumbled response “Idiot” before Dean slammed the door behind him.

Sam relaxed a little and stopped gripping the handle. He was still ejaculating into his pants and it was so damn embarrassing that it happened in front of Dean… The situation was screwed. Sam was screwed. How was he going to explain this? Because Dean sure as hell would want a satisfactory explanation and the only true answer was that Sam was a dog rather than a person. Even his physiology said that. So screw it, he really wasn’t lucky…

He broke one of his rules, so it served him right. He might have prevented Dean from seeing the knot on his cock, but he couldn’t prevent himself from postponing an orgasm as he had successfully in the morning. Flooding ones pants for about twenty minutes was certainly not a normal thing for humans. It was a normal thing for canines, though…

Sam forced himself to roll on his side and reached under one of the front seats for a package of paper tissues. He unzipped his jeans and tried to fix as much damage that his pants and underwear had suffered as he could. He freed his hard cock and clasped his knot in one of his hands while he kept wiping away the clear come spilling over his belly.

Dean took his time, fortunately, and Sam prayed to a higher deity for his brother to return only when this embarrassing moment was over.

Jesus, he had been so naïve! He had thought he could last until Dean came and stopped humping Sam’s overexcited crotch. He cursed himself a million times to hell and back again for his stupidity. He should have known. He should have anticipated how it would end. But it was so damn hard to resist Dean’s charm. It was so damn hard not to surrender to the treacherous desire. Sam wanted Dean so much… And it had felt so good and right lying under him and letting him do those things… Such pleasant things…

Sam shuddered and closed his eyes, a single tear rolled down his temple and disappeared in the hairline. Was he going to lose Dean now?

He was still ejaculating, his knot hard and firm in his hand. He gripped it tighter, his hand moving in very slight rhythm. He loved it, the gentle stimulation, though it wasn’t necessary. He could be pretty satisfied if only there was tightness around his knot. That was what he needed, that was what truly made him feel good…

His inner radar warned him about Dean coming back, and really, in a minute or so Dean opened the front door on the passenger’s side and slid in. He put a bundle of clothes in the driver’s seat, not chancing a look at Sam, who had hidden his knot in his boxers and gripped it through the fabric and now was lying in the backseat absolutely motionless and waiting for Dean’s response while the crystal clear come was still gathering on his belly.

Dean didn’t let him wait for too long. He took a deep breath, then exhaled, and finally spoke. “I needed to change my pants as well, that’s why it took me a while. Here are clean jeans and underwear for you.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. You still…?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine, I’ll wait outside.”

True to his word, Dean waited outside of the jeep, leaning against the front door on the passenger’s side with his back and not even chancing a look inside. Sam wished to die right now or simply disappear into thin air and wondered how much more embarrassing the whole situation could even get. Fortunately, his treacherous body was producing less and less come and his knot started shriveling as well. Sam gave a sigh of relief and loosened the tight grip.

After a couple of minutes he wiped the last drops of come off his belly and reached for the clean clothes Dean had brought him. He changed quickly, leaving the wet bundle on the floor of the car together with a dozen of used paper tissues. He would take care of the mess later.

After he pulled on his undershirt and shirt, he crawled into the driver’s seat and reached across the other seat to tap on the window on the passenger’s side. Dean got in immediately.

The first ten seconds were filled with awkward silence. Sam folded his hands in his lap, but it didn’t last long until he put them on the steering wheel in front of him, rubbing it with his restless fingers, but then he folded them in his lap again. Dean watched him for a while, maybe giving him some time to calm down, or maybe he didn’t know himself how to start.

“You okay?” he asked in the end.

Sam breathed out. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“So… Uh… Does it always last that long?” Dean’s voice wasn’t worried or disappointed. It reflected only pure curiosity.

“Yes,” Sam whispered, trying to hide his fear. It was here, the moment of truth…

“Is it a Protector thing?”

Sam curled his hands into fists, nails digging into flesh. “More like a dog thing.” Yes, Sam had studied… A lot.

“Hm…” Dean seemed to be thinking about something. “Well… It’s a lot of come.”

Sam laughed humorlessly. “Tell me about it.”

“So that’s why you didn’t let me blow you this morning, I see…”

“I’m not supposed to choke you to death,” Sam said in automatic defense.

“I know.” Dean’s tone was calm, placatory. “And you won’t. Because I’ll learn…”

Sam stiffened. “What!?”

“I’ll learn to blow you without choking myself.” When Dean looked at Sam, there was challenge in his eyes. Would Sam really try to oppose him?

“You’re insane,” Sam huffed and glared.

Dean shrugged. “If that’s what you want to call it... I call it an equal relationship.”

Sam wanted to say something, he really did, but he would only end up with his jaw hanging and his tongue not working. He had no words. So he only pressed his lips hard together, glowering at his brother.

“Is it really so bad?” Dean asked, and Sam couldn’t decode if he was making fun of him or was really concerned.

He ran a hand over his face in desperation. “Dammit, Dean…”

“Shouldn’t you, as my Protector, want to please me?” Dean asked with played innocence.

“I, as your Protector, should _protect_ you. I’m not a sex toy,” Sam grunted.

“Of course, you’re not!” Dean said quickly, and then added, “But it’s one of your tasks to want me and keep me as happy as you can, isn’t it?”

Sam gaped at Dean as if his brother said something incomprehensible. Then he shook his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

Dean grinned slyly. “And you love me.”

Sam couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his lips. “You really don’t mind?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Sammy.” He stretched out his hand, waiting for Sam to take it.

Sam put his hand into Dean’s slowly and no, Dean really didn’t mind, nor did he feel weird about it. He tangled his fingers with Sam’s instead and let his feelings speak for him.

“How long does it usually take?” Dean asked after a few seconds of silence, but this time it was comfortable.

“About twenty minutes?”

“Holy shit, that’s long!” Dean laughed. “Well, it can’t be helped, right?” He grinned wolfishly… and… was he actually delighted?

“And I thought I was the freak here…”

“What makes you think you’re not?” Dean asked, still grinning like an idiot.

“You.”

Dean sniggered. “Both of us are, Sammy, both of us are.” After saying that, he took Sam’s face in his hands and pulled him in to give him a firm, hard kiss that was supposed to make a point. Sam understood that Dean wanted him to finally stop being emo and just go with the flow, which meant to surrender to his Warrior. So Sam did. And it felt so damn good.

They didn’t make out anymore. Dean announced that it was time for Sam to learn something useful again and so they spent the afternoon playing poker, the two of them against Bobby. Even Pamela joined them later. At first, Sam found the rules pretty confusing, but with Dean’s patient assistance he understood the game at last. After a few rounds Dean let him play on his own, and even though Sam was losing, the game was fun.

“You just need more practice,” Dean said long after Pamela and Bobby left them alone in the living room. He and Sam were sitting on the floor and kept playing, Sam still losing, Dean winning.

Sam raised his gaze from the cards, the dim light of the last rays of the day glimmering in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, just a gentle smile curled his lips, and in the deepening darkness in the room, Sam let Dean see his heart.

Dean would have sworn time stopped, but the distant ticking sound of a clock reminded him its flow. He held his breath as he watched his brother.

Sam didn’t move, didn’t talk, and Dean still knew. Words couldn’t be more eloquent than the sight of the ethereal being in front of him.

Sam was happy.

It wasn’t the kind of happiness that’s accompanied by loud exclamations of joy and the urge to tell everyone who is willing to listen. Neither was it the kind when your breath is taken away, your brain refuses to work and your heart hammers against your ribcage, and the only thing you can do is cry or laugh maniacally.

No, nothing of that was Sam.

Sam’s happiness was peaceful, based on his contentment. He had everything he wanted (although just for a little while) and there was nothing more he wished for at the moment. It was the type of happiness you hardly notice, but you can still feel its touch. It makes you mellow and it leaves the feeling of something precious.

Dean couldn’t stop watching his treasure. He basked in Sam’s happiness like a lion in the sun, let himself be wrapped in it like in a warm blanket and allowed himself to forget everything behind the walls of Bobby’s house. He felt the immensity of Sam’s love, and maybe he should have felt frightened, but instead of that he accepted it as a part of himself.

He wanted to hide Sam in his arms, to cherish him, to kiss him. He wanted to touch that wonder, to embrace its grandeur. But he was also afraid that if he reached out, this incredible moment would be over.

It was Sam who moved first. He put his cards down, still not speaking, eyes fixed on Dean the whole time. His smile, warm, gentle, _dazzling_ , never faded.

It had been a very long time since Dean had felt so calm and untroubled. It must have been when he still was a kid and his only trouble had been Sammy following him _everywhere_ even when he could barely walk and rather crawled on all fours. Yeah, they had been good times…

And now they were sitting here, in Bobby’s house, in their only sanctuary, two parts of one entity, two souls bound with blood and the ancient law of life. The lovers they had never been supposed to become…

Neither of them noticed the witnesses standing in the doorway, watching silently. Pamela wanted to call the boys for the evening run, but she realized something was going on, something important, only she couldn’t figure out what. Bobby on the other hand seemed to recognize those expressions.

“What’s going on?” Pamela asked him, whispering, as they withdrew into the kitchen.

“It never happened to you and Jesse, right?” Bobby asked cautiously.

She didn’t understand. “What never happened?”

Bobby opened the fridge and took out two bottles of beer, handing one to Pamela.

“I was thirty something when it happened for the first time. Karen was cleaning the house while I was polishing guns in the living room. True family idyll…”

“And? What does it have to do with the boys?” Pamela asked impatiently.

“If you don’t interrupt me, I’ll get there.” Bobby opened his bottle and drank from his beer.

Using the pause, Pamela did the same.

“It is said,” Bobby continued, “that Warriors are determined by fight while Protectors by love. Personally, I think the opinion is shallow and insulting.”

“It’s not shallow, it’s true. We are here to protect. Our love is the source of our power. You are here to fight a good fight…”

“Thinking the relationship is always one-sided is short-sighted.”

“I’m not saying it’s always one-sided. I’m just saying that it’s our true nature. The true reason why we’re here.”

Bobby’s voice was calm when he spoke, but there was something cold and as hard as steel in it. “The reason – maybe. The true nature – I highly doubt. We can love as fiercely as you do. Jesse loved his girl like that, otherwise he wouldn’t have sent you to save her.” He knew he touched a sore spot. Pamela went rigid, her expression defensive. Before she could say something, Bobby continued. “It happens sometimes that we fall in love with our Protectors. We want to live for them, to protect them… I guess in a way we become Protectors ourselves.”

Pamela’s eyes were wide, horrified. “But that’s not how it’s supposed to be!”

Bobby shrugged indifferently. “Maybe. But it happens. And it obviously changes our ‘true nature’ as you like to call it.”

“But… there must be consequences.”

“Trust me, there are. And that brings me back to the story,” Bobby said, pausing again as he remembered one of the most magical moments in his life. “Karen was just putting the books I’d read the night before and left on the desk back into the shelves when she suddenly stopped and looked at me. She didn’t say anything, but I knew exactly when she turned to me, and I looked at her myself. And suddenly I could feel her…”

Pamela frowned. “What’s new about it?”

“Everything,” Bobby said putting his beer on the table. Pamela did the same with hers. “Both of us know that when it goes down to their Protectors, the powers of Warriors are limited. They can feel their presence, but they can’t feel their emotions.”

“Yeah…” Pamela said slowly.

“But I felt Karen’s happiness, her love and her will to protect me no matter the price. Her emotions filled the entire room and left me wondering how come I’d never felt them before. I don’t think I had been ignorant. I had the key, but I hadn’t found the door until Karen showed it to me.”

He fell silent, waiting for Pamela’s response, but she only shook her head helplessly. “I don’t understand.”

“I loved her. She was the most important person to me. That was the key,” Bobby said gently, remembering Karen’s smile, the question in it, _Are you ready?,_ and his answer when he had opened that door. “I don’t think she understood it any better than I did. I think she only wanted to mean worlds to me just like I meant to her. I accepted that. I wanted to be like that. The intensity of her feelings was too overwhelming and they would surely have driven me crazy if I hadn’t felt the same about her.”

Pamela was quiet, but the thin line of her lips told Bobby what she thought anyway.

“You may say it was wrong, that she had no right to want something like that from me. I only tell you this: She made me happy. I didn’t want her to hide anything. She died and I wasn’t there to save her. Yet I could feel her fear when she was dying, but also forgiveness. She forgave me my incompetence. That was her last message to me and without it I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. She saved me after all.”

Pamela took a swig from her beer, but in reality just trying to avoid meeting Bobby’s eyes.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work for you and Jesse,” Bobby said quietly. Pamela said nothing, playing with the label on the bottle absent-mindedly. “You think you failed, but it’s not true. You couldn’t be in two places at the same time and he knew that. He sent you to save the woman he loved. If he had lived and she had died, he would’ve blamed you. Maybe, he would’ve gone crazy. You didn’t save his life, but you definitely saved his soul…”

Pamela’s disdainful snort silenced the hunter. She didn’t want to hear this. Not now, not ever. Jesse had been her responsibility and she had let him die.

Bobby apparently understood that anything he could say about the matter was unwelcome, so he didn’t try to open the conversation again. They drank their beers in silence until Sam turned up in the kitchen.

“The run?” he asked.

Pamela put the beer down. “Dean’s coming?”

“No, it’s just the two of us.” He didn’t seem to mind that at all.

“Fine. Give me five minutes to get ready.”

Sam laughed. “I need them to get ready myself.” He left them alone wondering what caused the boys’ decision to do something separately, especially when there was so little time they could still spent together.  

“I’m gonna check the other shore,” Bobby said and stood from the table.

Pamela nodded approvingly. “I’ll wait for the little one. Maybe he’ll tell me something…” She put her feet on the chair Bobby had just left and drank from the beer with obvious pleasure.

Bobby walked out from the kitchen. When he entered the living room, he found Dean sitting on the floor, propped against the couch and playing with the cards.

“How did it go?” he asked as he sat down next to the boy.

Dean sniggered, not even looking up from the cards. “The bitch let me win every time. He put the cards down, even though he had a Royal Flush on his hand.” He pointed at five cards lying in front of him. When he raised his head, Bobby could see the proud smile brightening Dean’s face. “He’s a quick learner.”

Before Bobby could say anything, a German Shepherd ran into the room, heading right to Dean. Dean grinned, burying his hands in the soft fur. The dog wagged his tail and licked the tip of Dean’s nose. Dean chuckled, pushing the dog away.

“Hey, Sammy,” he said, catching the Shepherd’s attention. “What’s this?” He pointed at the cards.

Sam stopped wagging his tail and hung his head, dog’s eyes fixed on Dean. _Busted._

Dean gave an exaggerated sigh. “What am I going to do with you?”

Sam wagged his tail again and put his paw on Dean’s thigh in a playful apology.

“Can we go?” sounded from the doorway. Pamela was standing there and waiting until Sam tore away from his brother.

Dean patted the dog’s side. “Have fun. I’ll see you later.”

Sam wagged his tail once again before he ran out from the living room, the dog tag hanging from the collar he was wearing was clinking softly as he went.

As Sam and Pamela disappeared from the sight, Bobby turned to Dean. The boy was smiling, putting the cards back into the pack.

“Why didn’t you go with them?” Bobby asked him curiously.

“It’s an exercise. I’m practicing my ability to sense where Sammy is.”

“Uhm…” Bobby watched Dean playing with the card pack absently. “Can you feel him?”

Dean’s smile became shier. “It’s tougher than I thought. I have to fully concentrate. But yes, I can feel him. He’s running away from the house. He’s enjoying the opportunity to go for the run in his dog form. He didn’t change for some time…”

“It’s his true form. He feels more natural as a dog,” Bobby said gently.

“I know.” Dean put the cards down and closed his eyes, the expression of deepest concentration settled on his face. “Right now he’s happy.”

He felt more than a Warrior was supposed to be able to feel about their Protector and he had no idea why. But Bobby did, he knew the key and here was the proof Dean held it firmly in his hand… in his soul.

“He deserves a little bit of happiness. It’s not easy for him,” Bobby said, keeping his tone matter-of-fact.

Dean stretched his legs in front of him, the pack of cards lying in his lap. He gave the hunter a serious look. “Thank you for taking care of Sammy.”

The boy had more character than his father. Bobby would have been unfair if he said that John cared less. He kept calling and asking, but sometimes Bobby had a feeling as though Sam was just some business article for John. But Dean didn’t have it any better either, Daddy’s faithful little soldier, a monster killing machine with a sense of duty. A boy that was trying hard to keep his anger in check, and yet was as calm as a sheep when his Protector was around. A Protector he wanted to protect so desperately, because he loved him more than anything.

“I didn’t have much choice,” Bobby brushed it from the table, but Dean wasn’t having it.

“Still thanks. You didn’t just give him a place to stay, you know that. You gave him a home.”

Bobby sighed. Dean’s gratitude was the last thing he needed. He loved the boy, loved them both and would have jumped into fire for them. It was his duty to fill the gap in their lives. If they needed a home, Bobby was there to give them one.

“You’re always welcome here, boy,” he said. “Your father is more of a guest than you are. You can come and go as you please, you’re not a stranger. You have a bed here to sleep in and a brother to boss around.” He could see a broad grin spreading across Dean’s face. “You thank me again and I’m salting your fine ass,” he warned.

Dean laughed. “Wasn’t going to.”

“Good.” Bobby stood up from the floor. “You still feelin’ him?”

“Yeah.” Dean’s eyes gleamed with pride and satisfaction.

“That’s… that’s good. Really good.” What else could he say? What else _was_ there to say? Perhaps something good will come out of this eventually. At least Bobby hoped. “So you’re going tomorrow?”

Dean’s good mood was over at once. “I’m catching up with Dad in Colorado. If I don’t want him to get wind of where I’ve been the whole weekend, I should set my ass on the road right in the morning. I’ll take Sammy to school and then go.”

“All right.” There was nothing more to say. Bobby didn’t even want to think about what John would have said if he had known. What he would have done. How it all would have ended…

The time went by. Bobby was doing some research on the case his friend Rufus had called him about and Dean simply entertained himself with something. Bobby didn’t investigate what it was (he assumed it was something ‘sensing Sam’ related).

“They’re coming,” Dean said after some time and walked out from the room. In that very moment he painfully reminded Bobby of his little brother. Sam was always all beside himself when he felt Dean coming and was able to wait for him at the gate for hours. Now Dean was standing in the doorway of the house, eyes fixed on the entrance of the salvage yard, and was waiting.

The German Shepherd stormed into the yard, hurrying toward Dean, and jumped like a little goat around him, calling him to play. There was no way Dean could say ‘no’ to that and they chased each other over the yard cheerfully.

“How was the run?” Bobby asked Pamela, who was catching her breath.

“Surprisingly good,” she said, watching the boy and his dog. “No emo moods, no glaring at everyone and everything, he wasn’t even overexcited. I don’t remember the last time he was so disciplined. If it’s Dean’s influence, I’m a little bit worried what the reaction will be when he’s gone.”

“You expect it to be that bad?”

“It won’t be good.”

“True…”

But for now, everything was just flowers and rainbows and if Bobby could help it to last as long as possible, he would.

Finally Dean and Sam returned to the house, Sam heading right for the room while Dean tried to be helpful in the kitchen while Pamela prepared dinner. Dean expected Sam to take his time, knowing what followed after the change, but Sam joined them downstairs in less than fifteen minutes, his hair still damp from the shower. When Dean gave him a questioning look, he only grinned smugly. Dean got the chance to ask about it only when they went to sleep. Sam cuddled up to him, head resting on Dean’s shoulder, while Dean wrapped an arm around him, caressing a stripe of bare skin right above the waistband of Sam’s pajama pants with his thumb.

“So? What’s the deal?”

Sam smiled and pressed closer. “Let’s say I found a new motivation. Something that doesn’t make me horny.”

“Will you tell me what it is?”

“This,” Sam said without hesitation.

“What?” Dean asked, puzzled, trying to read from Sam’s emotions, but he felt only contentment.

“This,” Sam repeated, lifting his head. “You, me and all the possibilities we have but not necessarily using them.” He smiled and kissed Dean lightly.

“And it doesn’t make you horny how?”

Sam chuckled and put his head back on Dean’s shoulder, purring softly.

Dean pressed a small kiss on the crown of Sam’s head, the thumb on Sam’s waist moving a little bit higher.

“You turned so that we don’t make out?” Dean asked innocently after a while, but they both knew he was just teasing.

Sam laughed quietly into Dean’s pajama top, the gentle sound reverberating through Dean’s body. He raised his head again, resting his chin against Dean’s chest and looking into his eyes. “Don’t be silly. You know why.”

Dean ran his fingers through Sam’s hair. “I do. It’s about the time…”

Sam wriggled and a couple of heartbeats later he was practically lying on top of Dean, their foreheads pressed together.

“Yes,” he whispered. “It’s about the time we still have. Before, I just wished you to want me as much as I wanted you. I remembered how you kissed me back in the park on my tenth birthday. I wanted it to be real…”

Dean breathed out. His precious memory was also Sam’s. But Sam thought… “Sammy, it was real,” he whispered, hands resting on Sam’s shoulders. “Just like it is now…”

Sam swallowed. “Let me finish.”

“Go on.”

“I wanted you… and I always imagined how your hands on my skin would feel like… And then you had your girlfriend and I… I couldn’t say anything…” His voice broke and there was a sharp intake of breath. “I used my fantasies. Then I had no problem changing. Only… You know.”

Dean couldn’t help himself. He laughed. “You little pervert.” And when Sam wanted to pull away, offended, he took his head in his hands, preventing him from moving away. “I can give you the touches. I can give you even more,” he said, determined to not let go of his brother until Sam forgave him.

Sam stopped squirming in the end. “I know,” he whispered, collapsing into Dean’s loving arms. “I know you can… I know that you want…”

Dean made Sam raise his head once again. “There’s no rush. Our time is limited, but I’ll come again. As soon as I can. Promise. Anyway, we have a deal, don’t we?”

Sam’s eyes went wide and he dug his fingernails into Dean’s chest excitedly. “It still stands?” he asked, breathless.

“Of course. Unless you say it’s over.” Dean took Sam’s hands in his.

“I most certainly won’t.”

Dean smiled. “Good. It shouldn’t take much longer. I’m ready to take care of you, I just need to settle some things with Dad. Meanwhile you train hard, okay?”

“I will.” Not only Sam’s words, but also every single string of his emotions Dean could feel was a promise. There was hope and anticipation, fear and worry, but most importantly determination.

“Good,” Dean smiled. “Now let’s enjoy the little time we have. That’s why you turned back, right? Your motivation. Just to hang out together and see how far it gets.”

Sam chuckled. “You’re good.”

Dean grinned. “I have a great teacher.”

“I did nothing,” Sam said, smiling self-consciously. He graced Dean’s lips with a soft kiss that was not supposed to arouse, but to say how much Dean meant to him. It was about love and closeness, about adoration and caring, about possessiveness and protectiveness... It was also a silent thank you to Dean’s understanding.

Wrapped in Sam’s love like in a warm blanket, Dean went to sleep.

The morning wasn’t much different from others. They got up, went for the run with Pamela, ate the morning meal and got ready for the day. Everything looked normal, only the atmosphere was sadder than usual. Dean took Sam to school; they spent the ride in compete silence, not allowing even an accidental touch, not even looking at each other.

Dean parked not far from the school gate, the heaviness of the moment when they would need to part in a while was crushing them from inside. Sam didn’t move. He kept gazing out through the windshield, pressing the schoolbag to his chest, looking lost.

“It’ll be okay,” Dean said gently, referring to Friday’s incident.

“I know,” Sam replied, voice low, breaking. He still didn’t move.

“You should go.”

And there it was, the moment both of them feared. Sam locked his eyes with Dean’s, and Dean could _hear_ his brother’s inner world shattering. “It’ll be okay,” he said again, but this time he meant the two of them. “We’ll be fine.”

He didn’t count on his brother’s swift reaction. Sam grabbed his hand and gasped as he felt the rush of Dean’s own sorrow.

“No!” Dean wrenched his hand from Sam’s. “Don’t do it!”

Sam gave him a look of a kicked puppy, but Dean wasn’t having it.

“Goddammit, Sammy! Do you wanna be a total wreck? You’re already a mess.”

“You didn’t need to be,” Sam said stubbornly.

“Stop it and get out.” Dean’s voice was unexpectedly strong and firm, startling them both.

Sam hugged the schoolbag as if hiding behind it. “Dean?”

“Get. Out,” Dean said slowly, but resolutely.

The conversation was over. Everything was over. The carefree weekend was over. The closeness… seemed to be over as well. As Sam was getting out of the car, his hurt and sadness were screaming at Dean, torturing him.

Sam didn’t look back as he walked slowly to the gate and Dean didn’t even give him the chance to fix it as he started the car and drove away. He wanted to leave Sioux Falls, he really did, but he still ended up back in Bobby’s salvage yard.

The hunter didn’t say anything. He only asked Dean if he wanted to help him with some research, and so Dean did. When it was time to pick Sam up from school, he went.

Sam wasn’t even surprised to see him. When he got into the Impala , he only asked, “Why?”

“I couldn’t. Not like that,” Dean said, pulling the car on the road.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Sam said quietly. “I…”

“Me too,” Dean said quickly. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

Sam smiled, letting his love and gratitude caress Dean from inside. Whatever guilt or sorrow he carried, it was pushed away, hushed, forgotten for a while.

“So… How was the day?” Dean asked in a conversational tone, but he knew Sam would understand what he really wanted to know.

Sam shrugged. The day wasn’t bad. People hadn’t talked to him, even Andy had limited their interactions into unnecessary minimum, which meant no one had bothered him. So yeah, the day was good. “Better than Friday,” he said and even smiled in an attempt to ease Dean’s worry.

Dean glanced at him, obviously not fully believing Sam’s statement, but he couldn’t read much more than satisfaction coming from his brother. Sam was fine, so Dean could be, too.

“I’ll call, okay?” Dean spoke again, and Sam could hear the wish for the things to be all right.

“Okay,” he said, because there was nothing else he could think of to say. Dean needed reassurance, so Sam gave it to him, not even feeling guilty. But Dean needed more. He needed to hear it, hear it all, so Sam voiced it. “I’ll be all right, Dean,” he promised _._ “ _We’ll_ be all right.”

Dean didn’t say anything after that but he looked calmer.

“I love you,” Sam said, feeling safe with the words now, when Dean convinced him about his own feelings.

“I know,” Dean replied softly, glancing at Sam again. “Be good, will you?”

Sam smiled. “I’m always good.”

That brought a smile on Dean’s face. “Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam responded automatically, grinning.

Dean dropped Sam at the gate of the salvage yard. Sam longed to touch Dean and take most of his sorrow away. He wanted to kiss him, hard and deep, as a goodbye for who knows how long again. He wanted to hug him and forget Dad, the world… Just be Dean and Sam for a moment. Just be _them_. Two boys who loved one another and fought for the handful of chances to be together.

They should be happy. And they were. They were grateful. They had each other and they had a sanctuary, a place where they could be together, where they could be them.

But there were also partings, too many of them, and partings were so damn hard and hurt like a bitch.

Sam took a deep breath. “I should go.”

Dean’s face hardened and he nodded. “Yeah…”

Sam took his schoolbag and opened the door.

“Take care, Sammy,” Dean said quickly, sad eyes fixed on Sam.

“You too, Dean. Stay safe.”

Dean gave him a lopsided smile. “I’ll try.”

After that Sam got out from the Impala.

He watched the receding car until it completely disappeared from his sight, only then did he turn around and ran into the salvage yard. He dropped his bag and ran with the wind, he ran among the car wrecks, tearing off his jacket and shirt, he still ran, getting rid of his undershirt. He stopped only for a moment to kick off his shoes and discard his pants, socks and underwear.

Next moment a long, mournful howl echoed through the salvage yard.

Pamela raised her head from Bobby’s notes. “Dean’s gone.”

Bobby stood up from his desk on which a big, heavy book lay open, and left the room, determined to go find Sam and bring him in. Alone and heartbroken, Sam was an easy target.

It turned out he didn’t need to go look for him. As Bobby opened the door, the German Shepherd was standing there.

No one tried to stop him as he stormed into the house and up the stairs, no one followed Sam into his room. He was given his time and he was thankful for that. Curled up on the bed, he grieved over Dean’s departure. He was left alone even when it was time for the evening run. No one bothered him; it was his choice if he wanted to leave the room or spend the rest of the day there. He could afford that luxury today, but he knew the next day neither Bobby nor Pamela were going to be so generous.

The only time Sam went downstairs was when he nicked some food from the kitchen, avoiding meeting the two adults, who, in fact, got out from his way when they glimpsed him on the stairs.

He was a little disappointed when turning back into his human form didn’t leave him hard and horny, but as he had tried to explain to Dean before, now he yearned for company more than for longing hands on his skin. He curled up under the sheets, naked and too sore to get up and put on his pajamas. He was sweating and shaking and he knew he had a fever.

Later, when darkness took over the world and the house fell silent, Sam woke up his treacherous, disinterested cock, working it to full size and wetness. After he reached the climax and the pearly-white come turned clear again, he kept gripping his knot for long, long minutes. There was a bundle of clothes he wore that day on the other side of the double bed (Pamela must have collect them for him and put them there), so he reached for the undershirt at wiped himself clean with it. Then he threw it on the floor and went to sleep, dreaming of heartbreaking partings and loneliness carved deep into his bones.

 


	12. And Then He Healed the Aching Heart

 

He didn’t know how he survived the week. He missed Dean so much that it caused him physical pain. But he could live with it, he had learned to do so a long time ago. The other week was better; the pain was still sharp, but Sam got used to it. The third week was supposed to bring more ease. Sam expected the pain turn from sharp to blunt, more annoying than torturing, but what he got was an urgent anticipation. On Friday he considered running from school, because he knew Dean was back in Sioux Falls. That feeling never failed him so far…

When the school was finally over, Sam hurried out from the building, ran through the school grounds as though a Reaper was on his tail, and stopped only when he reached the Impala. He got in with a broad grin. “Hey!”

“Hey,” Dean replied, starting the car.

“How long…?” Sam asked, breathless.

“As long as it takes Bobby and me to dig as much useful information as possible about totem animals,” Dean said matter-of-factly.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You’ve come here to actually work?”

Dean glanced at Sam and he was quiet for a while until he spoke again. “Why’s it so surprising?”

Sam shrugged. “Well… It’s a little unusual for you to come here to do research…”

Dean changed gear and stepped on gas. “Dad sent me. He’s hunting… I don’t even know what. He hasn’t been in sharing moods lately. He doesn’t know about my last visit. He thought I would appreciate one and he needs the info, and so I’m here.”

Sam smiled. “You do appreciate the visit, don’t you?”

“Do you hear me complain?” Dean asked and grinned.

Sam watched the town behind the window. He could see its rhythm, but he never picked it up. It didn’t tell him anything. The only thing Sam could hear was _Wait,_ so he waited. Dean was coming and going and Sam was waiting. He would wait years, centuries for his Warrior.

Now Dean was here. And there was no exact time limit again. But Dad wasn’t there this time, and it wouldn’t be a problem if Dean didn’t hurry with the research so much, right?

He noticed Dean’s glance shortly before they passed the border of the town and they understood each other. They gave it a few more minutes until they got further, but then, away from anyone who could see them, Dean was pulling the Impala to the side of the road and reaching for Sam, who couldn’t wait to be back in Dean’s arms. Their mouths met in an impatient kiss, greedy and messy and deep and rough. Sam crawled into Dean’s lap, kissing him hungrily, wanting not to have to let go… _ever_. Dean buried his hands into Sam’s hair, not allowing him to break the kiss – and really, breathing was so overrated. But then Dean’s hands slid to Sam’s back, pressing him close and there were gentle teeth nibbling his jaw. Sam gave an involuntary sigh and when Dean started kissing his neck, he tilted his head backwards. Dean welcomed the better access to Sam’s skin with a satisfied purr and he licked over Sam’s forming Adam’s apple, teeth grazing the skin gently.

There was a slight shiver of Sam’s thighs as he pressed his crotch to Dean’s, giving a hesitate shove of his hips. Dean gave a happy moan and each Sam’s rub was returned with enthusiasm. Sam could feel two big palms cup his ass, not letting him lose the contact.

It was hard to achieve some real action in the constricted space of the driver’s seat, and probably it was good, because neither of them needed flood in their pants, especially Sam. And even though they kept rubbing their crotches together, they’re attention was concentrated more on the frantic kisses. One moment Sam let out a surprised whine because Dean managed to bite his lip rather painfully, but there was an immediate apology in the form of a light sweep of Dean’s tongue over the sore place and a gentler kiss.

“Dean… _Dean_ …” Sam moaned, and there was need in his voice. Drunk with Dean’s love circulating in his veins, high on endorphins and drowning in his own happiness, he was willing (oh, _so_ willing!) and ready to give Dean everything he had, everything he was, to give his body and soul to the only person that always mattered.

“Jesus, Sammy, do you wanna kill me?” Dean groaned, his hardness pressed firmly against Sam’s. “We… We can’t. Wrong place, wrong time. Bobby’s waiting…” His grip loosened and the green eyes were looking at Sam pleadingly.

Sam blinked, the cogwheels in his head started spinning again and he could think clearer. _Oh my God… What the hell am I doing?_

“I’m sorry!” he said quickly, climbing back into the passenger’s seat, blessing Dean that at least his brain worked when Sam’s stopped. _How would I explain the knot?_

“Cut it out, Sammy,” Dean said in firm but gentle voice, eyes fixed on Sam’s face.

Sam winced. “Huh?”

“I can feel what you feel and I don’t like what I feel right now. Quit it. It’s not what you think.”

Sam wasn’t sure what Dean was talking about. “What’s not what I think?” he asked carefully.

“God knows how much I want you. I wish nothing less than to bend you over the hood...” Dean bit his lip and looked away. Sam noticed the slight blush in his cheeks. “It’s not a good idea right now. Time’s pressing and... I want our first time to be special… I mean… unhurried and… and… you know… You deserve as perfect as possible.”

Sam gaped at his brother. Dean obviously interpreted Sam’s pull back as a reaction to his rejection. He didn’t even know he saved Sam from revealing another absolutely embarrassing secret. Sam had no idea how to tell Dean about the knot and he was scared shitless of the moment. But now wasn’t that moment, so Sam smiled freely.

“No, you’re right,” he said, reaching for Dean’s hand. “Now’s neither a good time nor a good place for it. You deserve perfect yourself.”

Dean smiled, lifting Sam’s hand to his mouth and kissing each finger separately. Sam chuckled at that, and how great it felt after the three weeks of grief. He leaned against the backrest watching his brother; Dean’s emerald-green eyes never left Sam’s face. Then Dean leaned in and pecked Sam’s mouth swollen from all the kissing. Dean didn’t have it any better. There was a physical proof of their sin. Of their want. Of their promise of a right place and a right time.

In the end it turned out it didn’t apply to the coming weekend. Most of the time Dean was engrossed in the research together with Bobby, but Sam kept them company, and when he understood what they were looking for, he helped them. Bobby at his desk and Sam and Dean anywhere in the room, on the floor, on the couch, it didn’t matter, but always together, their bodies always touching. Each of them had a pile of books with himself that needed to be studied properly for useful information. The more Sam read about totem animals, the stronger was the impression it had something to do with Protectors. He only didn’t get why Dad was interested in them so much. Also Dean didn’t seem to be any wiser. On the other hand, Bobby was very serious about the research, so there must have been something important that both Sam and Dean were missing.

The rest of the time they spent talking and kissing; there wasn’t much time for anything else. After the evening run and long research sessions, they both collapsed in bed totally worn out. They only managed to snuggle to each other before sleep claimed them.

Monday came and Sam went to school. Dean and Bobby were still occupied with the research, and while Sam was doing his homework (if nothing else, at least his ankle was hooked with Dean’s), the two hunters were reading heavy old books. Sam brought some more from the school library. They weren’t of much help, but the effort counted, too, right? There was a smile tugging at Bobby’s lips, which Sam hadn’t seen for some time already, and Dean kissed him quite a lot before they went to sleep.    

“What?” Sam asked. Not that he minded the kissing, but he had no idea why he deserved the special attention.

“Bobby said you’d bring some material,” Dean replied with a grin. “And then you brought the books. There were a few things that actually helped.”

“Oh… Then I’m glad,” Sam said, still not understanding.

“You know… You’re good at this. The research. Most of the things we needed came from you.”

Sam shrugged. “I did nothing special.”

“Oh, you did. You know what to look for.” Dean pressed a small kiss on Sam’s forehead. “Now sleep.”

“You too.”

Dean’s chest shook with a quite laugh. “Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

It was Friday again until Dean collected all the information John asked for. As a reward for the trouble he decided to spend one more day (or two) just hanging out with Sam. They trained a bit: Dean showed Sam the content of the trunk of the Impala and taught him something about hex bags and how to make protective ones. Then they talked about various kinds of sigils, ending up talking about Devil’s Traps and demons. It turned out Sam knew quite a lot about them (from Bobby’s books), but had never seen one. In the end he impressed Dean when he recited the whole exorcism formula.

Later, Pamela left to pursue the errands of her own and Bobby was in the garage to fix his car, so the house belonged only to the boys. They used the privacy the empty house offered and sneaked away into their room.

Sprawled on the bed, they just talked at first about unimportant things such as Sam’s school, Dean riding crisscross over the country, sometimes with Dad, sometimes alone, Sam’s books, Dean’s collection of weapons… Gradually, they were coming out of words, exchanging long looks and not so accidental touches… They shared kisses, gentle and without intention, saying only ‘I’m here’ and ‘I love you’… Sam settled comfortably in Dean’s arms, letting emotions consume him… Love, contentment, light-heartedness… Were they his or Dean’s? And did it matter? He felt the flow coming from Dean and he knew Dean could feel him. Their feelings belonged to both of them – they were one entity, two parts of one organism.

Sam couldn’t help it; he was so full of happiness that wanted to be expressed. He was kissing Dean eagerly, but it wasn’t enough. His whole body wanted to exhibit his joy… And suddenly there was that funny feeling in his pants that had nothing to do with his hardening cock.

_Oh, shit…_

“What’s up?” Dean asked. He must have caught the change in Sam’s emotions – confusion, embarrassment, worry…

“N-nothing,” Sam stuttered and tried for a nervous smile.

Dean frowned. “Come on, don’t lie to me. What’s going on?”

Sam bit his lip, heat rising into his cheeks. “Uh… Well… It’s… It’s kind of… You know… I… Being a dog…”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Spill it out, Sammy.”

Sam made an unhappy face and reached to his behind. After an awkward moment while struggling with his jeans, a fluffy dog’s tail peeked out from behind the waistband.

Dean blinked and Sam had real problems to decipher his feelings now. “A tail.”

Sam nodded.

“You have a tail.”

Sam nodded again.

“How come you have a tail although you haven’t turned?” Dean asked in the end, staring at Sam as if the younger boy came from another planet.

“I’ve no idea,” Sam admitted. “Must’ve happened because… I _don’t_ know!” and he was already pulling away from Dean in order to crawl off the bed.

“Wait, wait!” Dean cried, grabbing Sam’s wrist and pulling him back, a manic grin spreading across his face. “You have a tail. That’s hilarious!”

Sam gaped at Dean, perplexed. “What?”

“Let me touch it. I wanna touch it.” Dean was absolutely ecstatic about the additional part of Sam’s body, reaching for the fluffy thing still poking out of his jeans.

“Are you insane?” Sam squeaked, trying to escape Dean’s hands.

“No, but it’s so funny.” Dean was still grinning like a fool. “Come on, Sammy, let me. It can’t be much different from when you’re completely turned.”

Sam widened the distance between them. “All right, edit: Are you a zoophile?”

“Huh?” The situation would have been comical if it hadn’t been serious. Dean was pretty excited about the tail, too excited even to Sam’s liking. But now his eyes went big and round, their look talking about the deepest puzzlement. “Why?”

“Because you’re acting like a perverted madman. It’s a _dog’s tail_ , Dean.”

Dean straightened up and inhaled slowly. “No, it’s _your_ tail.”

Sam felt like banging his head against a wall. “I turn into a dog! _I am_ a dog!”

When Dean spoke again, his voice was cold. “Are you really telling me that I’m a zoophile because I...” He stopped, hanging his head and shoulders. Suddenly, he looked beaten.

Sam couldn’t stand that sight, but it seemed to be the right time for truth. He crawled closer to his brother. Dean raised his head to look at him, anticipation reflecting in his face.

“Dean, I…” Sam started hesitantly. “An animal spirit dwells within me. I’m it. My true form is a dog. I’m a dog more than a human. Even my body says that. I’m sorry, Dean.”

His heart was hammering in his chest as he waited for the response. What if Dean turned away from him now? What if Sam lost him? He was terrified, but Dean deserved truth and Sam was tired of hiding it.

Dean frowned, jaw set. “You’re such a dumbass. That’s bullshit, Sammy. Call it whatever you want, but that’s just plain stupid!”

Sam winced, looking hurt.

“You are my brother, Sam, and last time I checked, I was still human. You were born from a human and a human conceived you! So you are possessed by an animal spirit, and what? You shift, you turn into a dog, but don’t tell me I like banging animals because you have a tail!” Dean took a deep breath and then continued. “It’s been always about _you_ , who you are and not what you are. It was about you when I didn’t know a fuck and it’s about you even now, when I do. I like your tail not because it’s a dog’s tail, but because it’s yours! See the difference?”

Sam sniffed, ashamed for his doubts but also happy. His deepest fears were lifted from him, his worries dissipated. Dean didn’t see a freak changing forms or growing a tail occasionally in him. He never did. He always loved Sam despite all his weirdness…

Dean smiled. “You girl. Come here.”

And Sam did. He snuggled to Dean once again, the tip of his tail sweeping from side to side. Dean kissed him slowly, carefully, turning the kiss sensual gradually. Sam sighed excitedly, but then pushed Dean away.

“What’s up this time?” Dean asked impatiently, aiming for Sam’s lips again.

Sam put a hand on Dean’s mouth. “There’s more,” he said quietly.

Dean frowned. “What more? You grow a cloaca, too, because you also turn into a turtle?”

Sam blinked. “What? Don’t be ridiculous,” he said in a serious tone.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Fine. So what is it? You want a tattoo on your butt and want permission from me?” This time he grinned.

Sam slapped his shoulder playfully. “Stop it.” He smiled, too. “Do you know how dogs mate?”

“Is it a quiz question? Or are you gonna school me, puppy?”

Sam scowled. “Can you be serious for a moment?”

“I am serious, Sammy. What is it you wanna tell me?”

“Answer. Do you know?”

Dean sighed. “A male’s penis goes into a female’s vagina…”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

“Sorry, but I have no idea what you want to hear from me,” Dean said in an offended tone.

Sam looked at Dean apologetically. “Do you know what holds the male inside the female?” he asked coyly.

There was a long silence between them during which Sam could see the cogwheels turning in Dean’s head. Seconds stretched into a couple of minutes until Dean spoke, eyes trained on Sam. “You… you have…”

Sam nodded sheepishly, the confusion flowing from Dean was turning into disbelief.

“You have a knot,” Dean said finally, and Sam nodded one more time. “You’re kidding!”

Sam shook his head this time.

“I wanna see!” Dean exclaimed enthusiastically, but then he backed off. “Can I? Will you let me?”

Sam took a deep breath… and then he nodded.

Dean put him on the sheets carefully and then pressed a sweet kiss on Sam’s lips, his one hand wandering to Sam’s hip while he propped himself on the other. “Are you sure?” he asked in a low, husky voice.

Sam smiled. “Absolutely.” He chuckled.

“Good,” Dean said and leaned down to kiss Sam again. Then his mouth slid to Sam’s neck, kissing and biting gently while the hand on Sam’s hip found its way to the button on his jeans and popped it open. “Still sure?” Dean asked against Sam’s skin.

“Still,” Sam sighed, tangling his fingers in Dean’s shirt.

Dean pulled the zipper down and slowly, very slowly slipped his hand into Sam’s underwear. He never stopped showering Sam’s neck with kisses and fond, gentle nibbles. “Okay?” he asked once more.

“Yes,” Sam breathed out, and he sighed again as Dean caressed his hardening cock.

“You know, it would be more comfortable if I just took these off,” Dean said with a mischievous smile and tugged at Sam’s jeans, pulling them down slowly. Sam didn’t try to stop him. He was already too far from that point. Anyway, Dean was right. Not even he had better access to Sam’s cock, but he also freed his tail. Sam would have been wagging it happily if he hadn’t been so turned on already, feeling the same from Dean.

He sighed excitedly, reaching for Dean’s face and kissing him messily. Dean was stroking him gently, rubbing the right places and bringing the knot into light.

“I love your tail,” Dean said, letting his hand slide from Sam’s front to the furry part of his body. He pulled it carefully, smirking. “But your knot…” he touched Sam’s member again, “totally fascinates me.” He squeezed the knot lightly, sending sparks of excitement into Sam’s body. Sam couldn’t stop the moan that escaped his mouth. Dean grinned happily and did it again, the bulge in his hand hardening.

“You pervert,” Sam said and smiled, his chest heaving and falling in a frantic rhythm.

“You love it,” Dean replied, making Sam spread his legs wider so that he could settle between them comfortably, using both his hands to work on Sam’s cock. One hand was curled firmly around the knot, while the other was stroking Sam, paying extra attention to the head, already leaking crystal-clear precome. Dean used it as lubrication.

Sam thought he would explode. It felt thousand times better than doing it himself and the sole idea of _Dean_ doing it to him had a stronger effect than any aphrodisiac could ever have. He moaned and purred and sighed and begged for faster and rougher, for firmer and tighter…

Dean was satisfied, but there was something bugging him as Sam could feel.

“W-what?” he asked, breathless.

“Uh… Just wondering… How far you and Andy actually did get,” Dean said, squeezing Sam’s knot a little bit stronger.

Sam moaned with pleasure before he said grumpily. “Do you need to know it right now?”

“If you tell me,” Dean offered.

“Jesus, Dean…” Sam was trying to catch his breath.

Dean lowered his head to Sam’s cock and puffed hot breath on the sensitive skin.

Sam sighed. “God…”

“It’s Dean,” Dean said, amused.

“And you’re a sex god,” Sam said, closing his eyes, but smiling, enjoying the pleasure Dean’s skillful hands were causing him.

Dean smirked. “I’ll show you a sex god,” he said, and before Sam could respond, there was wet heat wrapping his manhood. Sam gasped and he was coming, coming hard and loud until a strong palm covered his mouth.

“Shhhh,” Dean hushed him. “Bobby doesn’t need to know what we’re doing,” he whispered, kissing Sam quickly, letting him taste himself. Then he grinned and nuzzled Sam’s cheek, still gripping his knot. “Good?”

Sam nodded, because talking was too much right now. He was hardly able of a coherent sentence. His cock was still producing come, now crystal-clear again, and Dean was licking it off as if it was a treat.

“You don’t need to do it,” Sam said, panting.

“I do,” Dean said, his tongue touching the head of Sam’s dick.

Sam shivered and sighed. It would take some time until he stopped leaking, so he was sure Dean would lose his interest soon. He was also sure that clutching Sam’s knot would start boring Dean pretty soon, but as the minutes were passing by, Dean never once loosened the grip, exchanging kisses with licking off the come from Sam’s cock.

“Dean?” Sam spoke finally.

“Hm?” Dean was just sucking Sam’s cock, sending sparks of pleasure up his spine while moving his hand on Sam’s knot very, very slightly.

“I…” Sam moaned with pleasure. “I love you.”

Dean let go of Sam’s cock with a wet popping sound. “Bitch. Do you think I don’t feel it?”

“I can feel how it makes you happy every time I say that,” Sam said and sighed contentedly.

“Jerkface,” Dean grunted and went back to licking Sam’s cock.

Sam swallowed the groan that wanted out and let Dean do his job.

It took him approximately another ten minutes until his ejaculation ceased. Meanwhile Dean never stopped licking off the come or kissing Sam, but what counted most was that he never let go of his knot, which made Sam ecstatic. It was definitely the best sexual experience he ever had and he was curious about the ‘right time and right place’. He wanted to give Dean everything he had, everything he was… he belonged to Dean and there was nothing to change it.

“Sammy, you’re killing me,” Dean whispered after he delivered a wet kiss under Sam’s ear. His hard-on was poking Sam’s hip, but Sam felt too exhausted to lend Dean a hand. He breathed out and searched for Dean’s mouth to share a few lazy kisses. Only Dean wasn’t having that, turning the kisses deeper and more passionate. Sam didn’t protest, letting Dean do whatever he wanted with him. He was perfectly satisfied with anything if it made Dean happy.

“Jesus, Sammy…” Dean moaned. “I shouldn’t…”

“I don’t mind,” Sam said softly, running his one hand through Dean’s hair while the other fiddled with the waistband of Dean’s jeans.

Dean kissed him hungrily, his desire messing with Sam’s head. He snaked his hand between their bodies and unbuttoned Dean’s pants.

Dean exhaled sharply. “You mean it.”

“You took good care of me, you deserve a reward.” Sam licked his lips lasciviously.

“Shut up.”

Sam chuckled. “You wore me out, man. If you don’t expect much of an action from me, I’m perfectly okay.” He cupped Dean’s cock still hidden in his jeans.

“Fuck…” Dean cursed, lowering his head to the crook between Sam’s neck and shoulder and biting the skin. Sam yelped in surprise, but then took the challenge and pulled down the zipper on Dean’s pants.

Dean groaned, lifting his hips a little bit for Sam to slide the jeans off his hips together with the underwear. When Sam touched his erection, Dean thought he would die with pleasure. He kissed his brother again, enjoying the sensation Sam’s hands were causing him.

“Sammy…” he sighed.

“Yes?” Sam’s smile was wide and infectious.

“Tell me… You and Andy… How far? Please, just… tell me…”

Sam rolled his eyes, giving Dean’s cock a rougher pull, making Dean gasp. “Why is it so important to you to know?”

“I need to know,” Dean said, kissing Sam’s sore shoulder.

“The farthest we got was an attempt of a handjob. His hand in my pants. He freaked out, we broke up. End of the story.” Sam stroked Dean gently while the older boy panted in his ear. “You’re my first practically in everything,” he whispered the words that he knew Dean wanted to hear. Needed to hear. “I belong only to you.”

“Only to me. Fuck, that’s right. You’re mine from head to toe, from body to soul,” Dean growled, gripping Sam’s wrists and pressing them to the pillow on either side of Sam’s head.

They kept staring into each other’s eyes for a while, until Dean tangled his fingers with Sam’s, climbing on top of him, and started thrusting against his lower belly.

“So… that’s why… you were afraid… urgh!” Dean tried to speak, but it was really hard with all that thrill and his cock captured between their bodies and enjoying the sensation of Sam’s naked skin against which it was rubbing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam said quietly, avoiding the eye contact.

“Last time you ran away when I wanted to return the favor,” Dean reminded him, running his lips along Sam’s jaw. “You were scared it’d be the same if I found out about your secret. I should feel offended you had so little trust in me.”

“But I told you now,” Sam objected.

Dean lifted his head and sniggered. “Your only luck.”

“How about you and Jenna?” Sam asked suddenly. “How far did you two get? I know she blew you.”

“Huh?” Dean stopped rocking his hips. “Why do you ask?”

“Curious. Just like you.” Sam smiled innocently. “Was she good?” And yes, this time there was uncertainty in his voice.

Dean smiled, shaking his head. He kissed Sam fondly. “You are better,” he whispered, gracing Sam with a particularly hard shove as a manifestation of strength and possessiveness.  

Sam smiled contentedly. He loved to belong to his Warrior. He loved to be Dean’s best, his most wanted… to be his only one. Dean’s hot breath tickled his neck, and if Sam hadn’t been spent already, he would have sported a solid hard-on by now. Dean was sighing and moaning quietly, even growling, which was funny considering the fact Dean could speak dog as perfect as Indian-Russian (meaning he made no sense) and his every move became rougher, faster, fiercer…

Sam freed his hands from Dean’s grip and ran his fingers through Dean’s short hair.

“Sammy,” Dean moaned, and Sam could feel him reaching his climax, taking his little brother with him… Dean came with Sam’s name on his lips while Sam’s body under him flexed with some indescribable feeling. It wasn’t an orgasm, but it was strong and intense, leaving him exhausted but content.

“You good?” Dean asked, concerned, looking into Sam’s eyes.

Sam had only strength to nod.

“What was that?”

Sam shrugged, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He smiled as wide as his tiredness allowed him and, not caring about the sticky mess between their bodies, he pulled Dean down for a kiss.

They kissed for a long time; fond, gentle kisses exchanged the greedy, more heated ones. When Dean finally rolled away and handed Sam a paper tissue to wipe the come from his belly, it was already half-dry. Shower definitely wouldn’t have hurt either of them, but they didn’t feel like getting up at all.

Dean glanced at the window as he zipped his pants. “We should air the room,” he said and sighed heavily.

“Uhm,” Sam mumbled, adjusting his jeans as well. When it was clear Dean wasn’t going to make any attempt to get up, he snuggled to him, settling comfortably in Dean’s embrace.

“You gonna sleep?” Dean asked, brushing away the untidy strands of hair falling into Sam’s face.

“You wore me out,” Sam said, grinning, enjoying Dean’s tenderness.

“Where’s your tail?”

Sam chuckled. “Disappeared?” he offered. “I have no use for it right now.”

“That’s a shame. It was funny.”

“You’re weird.” Sam grinned, giving Dean a brief kiss.

“Don’t blame me. It runs in the family,” Dean said, smirking. “What will you grow next time we have sex? Ears? Claws?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “We had sex?”

“Technically, you’re still a virgin. I haven’t popped your cherry.”

“Dude!” Sam made a disgusted face. “I so hate that expression.”

Dean laughed. “What’s up, Samantha?”

“Shut up.” Sam pressed his face?"xpression."aws?have sex? Ears? Claws? to Dean’s chest, taking a deep breath. Then he raised his hand.

“How do you do that?” Dean cried as he grabbed his brother’s hand, studying the freshly grown claws.

“Wanted to amaze you with them, so they grew,” Sam said, smiling.

“Huh… You’re pretty amazing, indeed,” Dean said, putting the clawed hand on his chest carefully, holding it there.

Sam pressed his forehead against Dean’s, his claws shrinking and disappearing. He could hear the ringing of the telephone from downstairs, but he didn’t bother to get up, even though he knew Bobby was in the garage and there was no one else to pick up. Whoever was calling, they could call later as well.

“You can just make the parts grow and then disappear?” Dean asked. He didn’t acknowledge the sound, so Sam guessed he didn’t hear it.

“Seems so,” he said. “I’m just discovering the ability.”

“And I’m here to watch it,” Dean said, pride seeping from his voice.

Sam laughed. “Dork.” He nuzzled Dean’s cheek before he placed a small kiss on it.

They didn’t feel like leaving the room just yet. They kissed and cuddled, happy to be together, undisturbed. They always had so little time for each other so they wanted to use every minute they could spend like this.

They lost the trace of time, so it was pretty surprising when there was a loud knock on the door and Bobby barged in; they barely had time to pull from each other.

“Do you really want to spend the rest of the day in bed?” Bobby asked grumpily. “Better get your asses to something useful. Your father’s on his way here. You surely don’t want him to find you hanging out like this.”

Sam and Dean exchanged startled looks. They both knew that it meant their time was up.

“Damn,” Dean sighed, frustrated, and got up.

Bobby was about to leave, when he turned back to the boys as though something just occurred to him. “Air the room. Just in case,” he said, and then he left for real.

Sam crawled out of the bed and opened the window wide. He didn’t feel like talking. Dad was coming, so the fun was over. Dean was going to leave soon.

“Sammy.”

“I’m okay,” he said quickly, not turning to Dean. He knew Dean didn’t believe him, anyway, because Dean could feel him even without physical contact. How fair was that?  

“Sammy!” Dean demanded his attention, so Sam finally found his the courage to look at his brother. “You won’t shut the door on me again, will you? The deal’s still on.”

Dean was afraid, but more than Dad he feared Sam’s rejection. Sam had done it once because he had been unable to control his own fear of losing Dean, so he had made the cut first. Just to find out how stupid he had been. Dean hadn’t been leaving him then, he wasn’t leaving him now. Dean may go with Dad, but his heart would always be with Sam just like Sam’s with him.

“Never again,” he said determinedly, “I’ll shut the door on you. That’s a promise.”

Dean gave him a faint smile. “Everything’s okay then.”

Sam’s look dropped to the amulet hanging on a string around Dean’s neck ever since Sam had given it to him. “Yes, everything’s okay,” he whispered.

Dean smiled and gave him a little pat on shoulder. “Let’s go, cowboy. The everyday reality’s waiting for us.”

As expected, with John’s arrival the atmosphere became tense. Sam felt like he and Dean were under a constant watch, like Dad could see them even when they weren’t in the same room and was trying to catch them by something forbidden. Sam felt utterly uncomfortable and could breathe more freely only when he was sent into his room, because the three hunters needed to “discuss some important things that were not for Sam’s ears” as John had put it. Sam didn’t mind leaving the room if Dad was in it. It was probably better for both of them if walls and one floor separated them. He only pitied Dean for having to be a participant of the discussion.

Aside from a few sentences he exchanged with John, Sam had barely talked to their Dad. And it was okay. It was perfect.

Dean didn’t turn up in the room until late night hour when Sam was already asleep. He took a quick shower, changed into his pajamas and climbed in bed beside his younger brother. Sam snuggled to him immediately, sensing Dean’s presence even in his sleep.

Dean hoped for the morning run next day. Seeing an opportunity in it to be alone with Sam for a while, he was really disappointed when Dad announced they were leaving barely had Dean set a foot outside the room. He didn’t even get the chance to part from Sam properly since John was in a hurry.

“Take care, pup,” he said before he got into the Impala.

“Take care yourself,” Sam replied, trying to keep his voice even.

The torture of the first couple of weeks after Dean’s departure began. Bobby allowed Sam to stay home and not go to school while the things were worst, but after two or three days Sam was forced to get out of bed and stop moping. Pamela’s return from wherever she had been was a welcomed distraction. She helped Sam to control his partial changes. He was able to grow a dog’s tail, ears, claws, and fangs (all at once or separately) without turning completely. The only thing he couldn’t control was the changing color of his eyes; they turned from hazel to brown every time Sam’s fangs shown up.    

Dean called sometimes in the middle of April, sounding distracted and not himself at all even though he was trying to hide it. He kept repeating he was okay every time Sam asked what had happened. Whatever it was, Dean avoided talking about it. The whole conversation lacked the usual fluency and was awkward in general.

April went by and May came. Sam expected Dean to call on his fourteenth birthday as usual, but there was no phone call for him the whole day. And when there finally was, it was Dad. Sam didn’t talk to him for long. To be honest, Sam barely listened to John, thanked him for calling and hoped Dad didn’t hear the disappointment in his voice.

He skipped the evening run that day, sitting close by the phone with a book he couldn’t concentrate on.

Dean didn’t call that day. He didn’t call even the next day or the next week or the next month. There was no word from him, nothing that would tell Sam Dean thought about him. Sam was sure that he would have felt if something had been wrong with his brother, but the silence wasn’t any better.

John kept calling more often than normally, always wanting to talk to Bobby. Sam contemplated the idea to ask Dad about Dean, but he always changed his mind. He was sure that if John mentioned Dean in any of his calls, Bobby would have told him.

It happened in August late at night when the ringing of the phone got Sam out of bed. Bobby had gone for a hunt with his friend Rufus and Pamela hardly ever picked up.

“Hello?” he said sleepily into the receiver.

“’Ammy…” said the voice on the other side.

Sam’s heart skipped a beat. “Dean?”

“’Ammy, ‘s that you?” Dean’s voice was gruff and there was a big deal of desperation, but also relief in it.

“Yes, it’s me. Dean, are you drunk?”

“No, not drunk,” Dean mumbled and giggled stupidly. “Maybe… Maybe a lil bit.”

“Dean, where are you? Where’s Dad? Is he with you?”

“Fuck Dad!” Dean snapped angrily. “Fuck him, fuck ‘is hunts, fuck ‘em all…”

“Dean, you’re scaring me,” Sam said, his heart hammering in his chest. “What happened?”

Dean laughed without any trace of humor in his voice. “’Appened a lot. You… S-Sammy, you okay?” In that one simple question was much more fear than Sam had ever heard while talking to his brother.

“I’m fine, Dean, you don’t need to worry about me,” he said reassuringly. “Everything’s all right here.”

“Good. Good,” Dean mumbled again. “I ca-can’t lose you. I must prote–“ Dean hiccupped and cursed. “Sammy?”

“I’m here, Dean.”

“You know,” Dean tried again, “you… are my life, Sammy.”

Sam took a deep breath. This was so screwed… “Dean, check in at a motel and go to sleep, okay? Do it for me. Please.”

“Just… this. Let me say this.” There was a new hiccup. “Fuck… Sammy, you… still love me?”

Sam gripped the phone tighter in his hand. He wondered where this was going. “Yes, Dean. Always. You know that,” he said softly.

“Good,” Dean said with obvious relief. “I lo-love…”

“No, Dean!” Sam exclaimed, and he felt like crying. He secretly wished to hear those words, but not like this. Not when Dean was drunk and he barely knew what he was talking.

“What?” Dean asked, confused.

“You’ll tell me when you come to see me, okay? When you’re not drunk and I can kiss you.” _So maybe never,_ Sam thought with pain. Dean was avoiding stating his feelings. Sam knew his brother liked the luxury of their abilities to read the feelings of each other when words weren’t needed. It helped Dean to say so much without words, but sometimes… sometimes Sam longed for them.

“Kiss you,” Dean repeated. “I’ll do that. Good, Sammy.”

“Yes, good,” Sam whispered.

“I… I’ll come to tell… tell you…” there was a sharp inhale.

Sam sighed heavily. “Go to sleep, Dean.”

“… I’ll tell you that I love you and you kiss me, deal?” Dean said in one breath.

“Deal,” Sam said, fighting the lump growing in his throat.

“Good. Goin’ to sleep now. G’night, Sammy.”

“Good night, Dean,” Sam said and hung up. Tears were rolling down his cheeks and he hurried into his room to hide them from the world. _Not like this. Not like this. Not like this,_ he kept repeating in his head until he fell asleep.

Days were going by in a lazy rhythm. Bobby returned from the hunt. He helped Sam practice shooting and taught him new sigils. Pamela trained the partial changes with him, laughing at his tail and dog’s ears.

“Be glad you don’t have whiskers,” she told him once. “I always sneezed when someone touched them.”

By the end of the summer, Sam had no problem to get only a part of his body changed.

August stretched into its second half when there was that sudden anticipation Sam knew so well. “Dean’s coming,” he announced and the worry about his brother he had felt ever since Dean’s drunk phone call faded. If Dean was coming, he was all right.

Only Dean wasn’t. There was a shadow in his eyes and his smile never reached his eyes. When Sam touched him, he could feel what a mess his brother was inside. He could bring Dean some relief, and obviously that was the thing he was expected to do, but it didn’t solve the problem. Sam tried to make Dean tell him what was wrong, but it was a futile effort. Dean kept stubbornly silent and he rather fled to a bottle of whiskey than talked to anyone. So, naturally, Sam was worried. There was tension building between them, but neither of them knew how to reach out to each other. Dean wanted, God help him, he wanted; when Sam cuddled up to him at night or kissed him in the privacy of their room, he could feel how much Dean wanted to spill all the secrets, to be close again, but there was something holding him back. Sam wanted to be patient, but he was more frustrated every day.

“There’s something he’s not telling me and it hurts him,” he told Bobby the third day after Dean’s arrival. “He’s suffering and I can’t help him. I’m trying to bring him as much relief as I can, but it’s not enough…”

“I’ll talk to him,” Bobby promised, and Sam felt new hope blooming in his chest.

Bobby did as he said. The very night after Sam went to bed, tired of waiting for Dean, who refilled his glass of Scotch for at least third time in a row, he joined the unhappy boy struggling with his inner demons at the kitchen table.

“Mind to share?”

Without a word, Dean passed the bottle to the hunter. Bobby poured himself a glass of the golden liquid and drank from it.

“What is it this time?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.

Dean raised his head from the glass into which he had been staring for some time already. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t fool anyone, son. What’s up?”

Dean gripped the glass a little tighter. “I… I can’t, Bobby. It’s…”

“You haven’t given it a try. Whiskey is good, but it disinfects just your body, not your soul.”

Dean smiled wryly. “Did Sam send you to talk to me?”

Bobby leaned back. “Is it important?”

Dean huffed. “He did.”

“Listen, Dean,” Bobby started in a low voice. “Everyone who’s not blind can see you ain’t okay. We gave you time to either get better or talk. You chose to down all my whiskey instead, so I think I have a damn right to know why I’m getting short of my supplies.”

Dean gaped at him, trying to figure out whether Bobby was kidding or was actually serious. But Bobby wasn’t laughing and, to be honest, nothing about the situation was laughable, so there was only one conclusion Dean’s half-drunk brain could think of – Bobby wanted to know why Dean was such a mess, no lies tolerated or there’d be consequences.

He sighed. “Look, Bobby, it’s… I…” He trailed off. “I just can’t.” He took a proper gulp from the whiskey.

“Fine, your choice. If you think a drink can help you more… You just should know one thing: when you’re hurting, Sam’s hurting. The reason of his existence is to keep you safe and sane. So whatever brings you nightmares will be always considered as his failure.”

Dean shook his head vigorously. “Bobby, I can’t! I can’t tell him… I…” He looked at the hunter, eyes wet with unshed tears. “I saw them,” he whispered as though he was afraid Sam was eavesdropping behind the door. “Cut off, robbed of their essences and insane. Lost souls. Maniacs.” He looked at Bobby waiting for a response, but when the hunter didn’t say anything, Dean continued. “I killed one barely a week ago. I had no choice, it was me or him… I… I just don’t want anything like that happen to Sam. It must never happen…”

“That’s why your dad brought Sam here, kid, and also the reason of the strict rules,” Bobby pointed out.

Dean ran a hand over his face. “I get it. It’s just…”

“It’s just?”

Dean shook his head again. He trusted Bobby, but telling him the true reason why he came didn’t feel right at the moment.

He was on a run. He wasn’t proud of it, but he was running from the nightmare he had seen. He was running to Sam, hoping the little brother could take away the pain and dread. The monstrosity of the deed that had left twisted souls behind sowed fear into Dean’s mind, the fear so deep that he thought he was going mad. He needed to see Sam, to make sure his Protector was safe and sound, and even now, when he could see and feel him whenever he wanted, he doubted his senses. What if Sam was just a walking talking mirage? What if Dean was crazier than he thought? He wanted to reach out so many times, but Sam kept asking and Dean couldn’t tell him what he had seen. What he had done…

“I can’t tell Sam,” he whispered, voice breaking on each syllable.

“Then don’t tell him,” Bobby said simply.

Dean looked at him, puzzled. “But you’ve just said I’m hurting him…”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “You are hurting him, because you’re a dumbass that can’t pull your head out of your ass. Dean, Sam’s problem is that he feels helpless. He wants to help you, but he has no clue how. He feels your fear, but he doesn’t know what to make out of it. He can take it away, but the moment he lets go the fear is back. So he does it again and again and again without understanding anything. It wears him out. You need to trust him. You don’t need to tell him everything, but be honest with him. The kid’s not a wuss, he can take quite a lot.” He made a small pause before he added, “You came here for a reason and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t drinking.”

Bobby had a point, but it didn’t mean things were less complicated. Anyway, Dean felt himself he was losing Sam this way and no one could stop it but him. He had come here to be with Sam, to protect him from the cruelty he had seen, to never leave him. Ever. No matter what Dad said, Dean belonged on Sam’s side, end of discussion. But Sam was so perfect… and innocent… and Dean had no idea how to silence that urge to make sure Sam was real and alive and his… He was prepared. In one of his drunken moments before he had set on the journey to the salvage yard he had bought the needed supplies. The question was, could he reach out to Sam on such a level? Sam was still a kid. And a brother. But sometimes Dean thought that the sole fact they were the same blood made their bond even tighter and helped them to find lost faith and strength in each other more easily. Only this time Dean sensed that he needed to reach much deeper to be all right again.

“I’m going to bed,” he announced and stood up from his unfinished drink.

“Good night, son,” Bobby said in a fatherly tone that reminded Dean how many times Bobby had helped him to stand up again after each fall. Bobby had never given up on Dean, he had always been there for him.

Dean took his time in the shower and used a fair amount of toothpaste when he brushed his teeth to get rid of the smell of alcohol.

Sam seemed to be asleep when his big brother slipped into the room, but as Dean curled around him in bed, pressing his chest to Sam’s back, Sam purred and turned his face to Dean. “Hey,” he said, and Dean felt his hope.

“Hey,” Dean replied, nuzzling Sam’s cheek. “Didn’t want to wake you up.”

“You didn’t.”

Dean cupped Sam’s face, tracing the line of Sam’s lower lip with his thumb. The hazel eyes were watching him carefully.

“I owe you an apology,” Dean said after a while.

“For what?”

“For being a dick. I’m sorry.”

Sam flopped on his back, looking up at Dean. Even in the darkness Dean could make out the tension in his face.

“Things have been rough lately,” he continued.

“I figured,” Sam said blankly.

“And I don’t trust myself talking about them.”

Sam was quiet this time, but Dean could feel his hand slipping into Dean’s and squeezing it encouragingly. Dean squeezed it back thankfully.

“I’m not gonna talk about it…”

“Okay,” Sam said quickly. “You don’t need to.”

“But I…” Dean’s voice faltered. “Sometimes I think I’m going crazy and those are the moments when I need you to anchor me. Do you understand?”

Sam exhaled slowly, reaching for Dean. “Whatever you need,” he whispered and kissed him fondly.

Dean moaned into the kiss. “Sammy…”

“Right here,” Sam said, pulling Dean down.

Dean put his head on Sam’s chest, listening to his strong and steady heartbeat. “I should apologize for one more thing.”

“Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

“It is not. I didn’t forget about your birthday, Sammy, I just couldn’t call you. And when I did, I was drunk and messed up and said things I shouldn’t have…”

Sam tensed and his heart started beating quicker.

“I mean I shouldn’t say them while being drunk,” Dean said quickly. “You tried to stop me, but I didn’t shut up. I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right,” Sam said, his voice sounding dull.

“No, Sammy, it’s not. You can’t fool me. I love you, okay? I’m an idiot because I feel awkward saying it out loud, but you wanted to hear it, I know you did. I was drinking, and maybe I am still a little bit drunk, but I mean it. I love you, Sam, and I need you. I need you to save me from myself.”

He was the most honest now that he had ever been to anyone. He felt weak and unsure and naked right to his core. But this was Sam. Baring his soul to Sam was safe. At least he hoped…

Sam moved. He reached for the night lamp on the bedside table and turned it on. Then he looked at Dean again, showing him a warm smile spreading across his face telling Dean he didn’t need to worry. Then Sam took Dean’s face in his hands and whispered, “I’m right here.”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m a coward,” he said, chuckling.

Sam grinned. “Yes, you are. Now let me.” He placed a hand over Dean’s heart and the fear and doubts started fading slowly while love and need were doubling. “Jeez, you’re a true mess,” Sam tried to joke, but his voice betrayed him. He sobbed and wiped the tears collecting in his eyes with his other hand. Dean knew Sam was going deep, deeper than usual, taking as much as he could. He knew it must have been painful, but Sam never hesitated, his eyes locked with Dean’s and hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I love you,” Dean said with emotion.

Sam smiled. “I know.”

Dean couldn’t hold back anymore. He bent to Sam’s face and placed a gentle kiss on his wet cheek. Then he kissed the tip of Sam’s nose before he delivered another soft kiss on his other cheek. Sam’s eyes were closed and he sighed as Dean kissed his each eyelid.

“I love you,” Dean repeated, watching as Sam’s lips (those gorgeous lips!) stretched into a new smile.

“I love you,” Sam replied, opening his eyes. He pulled his hand away.

Dean gave a long sigh. The relief that had been flooding him, filling his heart and healing his tormented soul, lingered, but it was too fragile.

“It’s not permanent,” Sam said, regret recognizable in his undertone.

“I know, don’t worry,” Dean said affectionately, cupping his face again before his mouth met Sam’s in a soft, hesitant kiss – just a gentle contact, a greeting. Then he traced the line of Sam’s lips with his tongue experimentally and sucked at the bottom lip gently. Sam gave a long sigh as though this was what he was waiting for a long time. He put his hands on Dean’s shoulder blades, pressing him down, inviting him for more.

There was no way Dean could resist. He sank slowly on Sam’s body, careful and hesitant. He knew what he wanted, what he needed, the question was if Sam was ready.

“Sammy,” he whispered into the silence, the name a warning, a question and a plea at the same time.

They looked at each other, eyes locked in silent communication.

“Yes,” Sam said eventually, his voice firm and determined.

“Sammy,” Dean breathed out, attacking Sam’s mouth in bruising kisses, Sam returning each and every one of them with the same passion. There was no room for doubts and fears anymore, for musing about right and wrong, for anything that connected them with the world outside. This moment belonged only to them, nothing mattered but their love and devotion to each other. There was nothing more important than the two of them being together.

Dean wanted to drown in Sam, to suffocate with his love, to die the sweetest death of all deaths. It wouldn’t even have been painful. He would have fallen into Sam’s arms, into his warmth, and he would only have fallen asleep and would never have woken up, would never have left the safety of his haven…

Sam didn’t protest when Dean’s hands rolled up his pajama top and pulled it over his head. The poor piece of clothing ended up somewhere on the floor, abandoned and forgotten. Dean whimpered quietly as he laid his hands on his brother’s bare skin. He craved for this for a long time and _finally_ it became true. Sam was his, submitting to Dean completely without hesitation.

Sam put his hands on Dean’s forearms, sliding them up slowly toward Dean’s shoulders. He folded his arms around Dean’s neck and pulled him down for a hot kiss. Dean captured Sam’s mouth with eagerness of a conqueror. _Mine, all mine!_

Sam sighed as Dean’s teeth grazed his jaw. Hot lips touched his neck subsequently. “Mine,” Dean growled against the delicate skin and sucked, leaving a visible mark. “Mine,” he sighed again, seeking Sam’s mouth.

“Yours,” Sam breathed out before Dean plugged his mouth with a new kiss, his hands roaming over Sam’s body.

“Fuck dammit!” Dean cursed suddenly. Sam’s skin was so smooth under his hands, so warm, so soft. He wanted more, more of _everything_. He straightened up and took his own pajama top off, sending it flying on the floor.

Their eyes met. In Sam’s, there was a flame of curiosity and excitement burning. Dean’s brother licked his lips lasciviously as he stared at Dean’s chest.

“What’s that?” he asked, touching the black sigil decorating Dean’s body.

“An antipossession tattoo. Keeps demons out,” Dean explained, bending lower so that Sam could trace the lines of the pentagram with his index finger.

“You don’t have it for long.”

“No.”

Sam smiled. “I like it.”

Dean laughed. “Good. We’ll get you one, too, when you leave here with me.” He kissed Sam affectionately, his hands tugging at the waistband of his brother’s pajama bottoms. Sam was absolutely cooperative, getting rid of the redundant piece of clothing with the same impatience as Dean was pulling it off of his hips, and once it was gone, he went right for Dean’s bottoms. Dean helped him eagerly, kicking off the pants pooled around his ankles.

They stopped for a moment. Sitting on the bed, they were watching each other, their chests heaving in a fast rhythm. One could see the excitement of the other, gorgeously exposed and mutually admired. Dean marveled at the sight of his little brother, every line and every curve, seeing nothing but the perfection of a boy turning into a man. HIS boy. Dean’s boy. And therefore magnificent.

How had someone like Dean deserved to be loved by this glorious being?

“Sammy…” he spoke, his voice sounding broken.

“Dean,” Sam replied softly, the name pronounced with heart-breaking affection. Dean looked into those deep hazel green eyes and he was lost.

Sam wrapped his arms around him, locking him in a tight embrace, and pressed their mouths together. There was nothing sweeter in the world than that simple kiss, nothing purer, nothing more sacred. It was a prayer, a hymn, a psalm. It was the touch of deity.

Dean put his hands on Sam’s back and lay him on the bed carefully. He kissed him one more time before he pulled away.

“Wait a sec,” he said and reached under the bed to pull out his duffel bag. He rummaged in it for a while until he pulled out a bottle of lube and a box of condoms. He turned to Sam, who was watching him curiously.

“Huh, you’re prepared,” Sam commented with a light smile.

Dean shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about it for some time already,” he admitted.

Sam’s smile widened and there was no trace of the innocence from before.

Dean coughed. “We’ll need this,” he stood the bottle of lube on the bedside table, “but I’m not sure about these.” He looked at the box of condoms. “I mean… not that their pointless, but…” He gave a heavy sigh. “It’s the first time for both of us, so if you agree…”

Sam propped himself on his elbows, staring at Dean, wide-eyed. “I’m your first,” he said absolutely unnecessarily.

Dean gave him a suspicious look. “Yes,” he said slowly.

Sam flung himself into Dean’s arms, kissing him passionately.

“What the hell? You didn’t think…?” Dean started as he managed to push Sam away a little bit.

“I didn’t think anything. I didn’t think about it. Didn’t want to,” Sam said in one breath, taking the condoms from Dean’s hand and tossing them on the floor unceremoniously. “I don’t want these. I want to _feel_ you. I _need_ to feel you.”  

Dean’s heart was light, blooming with love and joy. “Whatever you want, little brother,” he said fondly, kissing Sam on his lips, on his cheeks, he licked along his jaw and pressed a wet kiss on his neck, he bit the shoulder gently and grazed the skin just above Sam’s left nipple with his teeth. Sam was panting in his embrace, the droplets of crystal-clear come were gathering on the head of his cock. Dean sucked at the nipple and bit it gently, forcing a beautiful hitching sound from the depth of Sam’s throat.

Holding Sam in his arms, Dean rolled them down on the bed with him on top of his brother. Sam sighed, spreading his legs for Dean, who fit between his thighs just perfectly as though he had been born for it.

They kissed while curious hands were exploring each other’s body eagerly, hot palms touching each and every inch of their overheated skin. Their hard-ons were lined up together, impatient and leaking, however, neither of the boys dared to move just yet.

“I need you, Sammy,” Dean whispered, the tone of his voice shaded with desire.

“That makes two of us,” Sam said, pressing a small kiss on Dean’s shoulder. “Now are we going to do this?”

Dean nuzzled the shell of Sam’s ear lovingly. “Do you want me to help you with the preparation?”

Sam swallowed. Dean could feel his unease.

“You know, this is starting being awkward,” Sam said in the end, holding on Dean as though he wanted to never let him go.

“It’s your fault,” Dean said. “I can feel how nervous you are.”

“Huh,” Sam huffed. “That’s too bad, because I’m channeling _you_ ,” he said in a dead serious tone.

They looked at each other and burst into laughter.

“We’re pathetic,” Dean said, chuckling.

“That’s what you say,” Sam grinned.

Dean rolled his hips slowly, making Sam sigh excitedly. “Okay?”

“Yes,” Sam breathed out.

“May I?”

“Please.”

Dean nodded and smiled, reaching for the lube. He kissed Sam once again before he rose from his body. He uncapped the bottle and slicked his fingers. Sam watched him attentively, the pupils of his eyes dark. His breathing was fast, his lips slightly parted. There was a light pinkish shade in his cheeks. He looked so adorable, so beautiful, spread in front of Dean, _for_ Dean, and waiting.

Dean smiled, kissing Sam’s knee. He rubbed his lubed fingers over his crack. Sam inhaled, his eyes fixed on his big brother. Dean slipped his index finger inside up to his first knuckle. Sam spread his legs wider, giving Dean an encouraging nod. Dean pushed the finger further carefully, feeling the tightness around it slowly giving in to the pressure.  

He watched Sam’s reaction as he pushed in deeper, checking out for the slightest change in his brother’s emotions, but there was nothing but desire and the willingness to submit.

“Good?” he asked to make sure.

“Yeah,” Sam said, his body relaxing around Dean’s finger.

Once the digit was all way in, Dean pulled it out and pushed in again and again, each time a little bit faster.

“Still good?”

Sam nodded, eyes trained on Dean.

“I’ll add another finger, then.”

He lubed his fingers again, pushing in two this time. Sam shivered and sighed, but it was more of an excited sigh than anything else. Dean was slow and careful, caressing Sam’s left thigh gently while sliding his fingers in uncompromisingly.

Sam’s breathing became faster, the droplets of come pooling on his stomach. Once Dean got his fingers inside of Sam completely and started scissoring them, Sam gave a ragged moan.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Dean had to ask, even though there was no trace of pain in the flow of Sam’s emotions. _Not yet,_ his subconscious added absolutely unhelpfully.

“No,” Sam breathed out and smiled encouragingly. “It’s fine.”

“Good,” Dean smiled, too, sliding his hand from Sam’s thigh to his hip and running his thumb over the hipbone. “You’d tell me if I did, right?”

Sam chuckled. “You’d feel it sooner than I’d open my mouth.”

Dean admitted Sam had a point. He grinned. “Smartass.”

Sam laughed. “Always.” He purred, rolling his hips experimentally.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Third finger?”

“Uhm.”

When he pushed in three digits, Sam held his breath and shivered. Dean felt that it wasn’t the best sensation for his brother, but Sam didn’t complain, only his breathing became rapid and he willed his body to relax. Dean gave him as much time as Sam needed, running his other hand over Sam’s body, over his chest and hips, his come-stained belly and his cock… Sam sighed excitedly, reaching for his still non-swollen knot.

Dean pushed Sam’s hand away. “Not yet,” he said in a commanding tone. Then he bent to Sam’s cock and sucked the tip lightly. It was the first time he tried something like that and he wanted to make it right. Judging from the attack of Sam’s feelings, he obviously did.

“Dean,” Sam moaned, and Dean sniggered, doing it again while sliding the fingers slowly up the sweet tight ass of his little brother.

It was great. It was prefect having Sam like this, desirous and needy, moaning Dean’s name as though it was the last thing he could remember. He was beautiful with his eyes dark with excitement and the flush in his cheeks, with his nipples hard and standing up and the small pool on his stomach. Dean bent forward and licked off the precome glistening on Sam’s belly while stretching his brother carefully. I was a funny taste, but he couldn’t say he disliked it.

Sam’s breathing was ragged and his chest was heaving rapidly. “Dean,” he whispered into the silence, the name having the sound of a prayer.

Dean started moving his hand, fingers sliding out and back in… and out again and back in… while he still kept stretching his brother, preparing him for what was yet to come. One moment he twisted his fingers and, as he moved them, their tips must have rubbed the right spot, because Sam gasped suddenly and his body flexed, his thighs shivered violently.

“Dean!”

Dean hesitated. The air around them was charged with something indefinable – not electricity, but Dean could feel the sparks anyway. Sam was panting, the muscles around Dean’s fingers tightening.

“Something wrong?” Dean asked coyly. Jesus, if he hurt Sam, he would never forgive himself.

“No, no, it’s good,” Sam said quickly, trying to catch his breath. “Do it again, please, do it again.”

“Okay.”

The encouragement took Dean’s fears away and he rubbed the wall of Sam’s rectum once again. Sam moaned, spreading his legs wider, and Dean gasped himself as he could feel the sparks that shot through Sam’s body. Holy mother, it was good! Dean’s cock twitched impatiently, the pearly white droplets of come rolling down his length.

Listening to his body’s need, he pulled his fingers out. He used a generous amount of lube to slick his cock and positioned between Sam’s long legs. “Ready?”

“Fuck yeah,” Sam panted, gripping the sheets in his hands.

Dean chuckled at his brother’s response and rested Sam’s calves on his shoulders. Then he took his rock-hard cock in his hand and led it to Sam’s entrance. He pushed in carefully, the ring of muscles giving in rather easily. Sam’s eyes were closed and his breathing was rapid, the grip on the sheets would give one a cramp. Being penetrated like this was nothing extremely comfortable, Dean could read that from Sam’s emotions, but there was something else as well, something much more important… something _magical._

There really was no other word to describe it. Sinking into Sam’s lean, still boyish body felt like coming home from a long, long journey after eternity. It felt like finding something precious Dean had no idea he had lost, but now it was here and he knew he never wanted to let it go again.

And then Sam opened his beautiful hazel eyes and he smiled his dimpled smile, and there started all the magic. Dean was being wrapped into a warm blanket weaved of love and tenderness, of trust and care… Sam’s legs slid from his shoulders, but Dean didn’t care. He was all way in now, but he wanted to be closer… He sank on Sam’s body, into his inviting arms and smiled as well.

Sam kissed the tip of his nose. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Sam chuckled. “Welcome home.”

Dean grinned, unsurprised, and kissed Sam fondly.

Then he moved.

Slowly at first, in a lazy pace that was supposed to test the ground, to make sure Sam was all right and not hurting. But Sam seemed to be just fine, panting and gasping for air with each Dean’s slide in, his body flexing and trembling, his heals digging into the small of Dean’s back. He was chanting Dean’s name and only he could make it sound like a song, like an ode to a god.

Dean listened to his name that sent sparks through his nerves; his brain was able to concentrate on only one thing – Sam sighing and moaning under him, Sam pressing him close and moving in a harmony with Dean in the same rhythm that was turning from peaceful to wild, desperate and frantic.

Dean whispered Sam’s name into his ear and Sam kept calling him, wrapping Dean tighter into his emotions, letting him feel every shiver of his heart.

“Jesus, Sammy, I love you so much,” Dean moaned in the heat of passion as he adjusted the angle and thrust in once again.

Sam’s eyes snapped wide open and his body arched, his every muscle shivered violently. He yelped, but immediately pressed his hands over his mouth to stifle the cry that wanted out. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and slowly rolled down his temples.

Dean froze, chill running up his spine. “Sammy! Sammy, have I hurt you?” he asked, terrified.

Sam shook his head vigorously, but he didn’t stop clasping his hands to his mouth.

“What’s happened? What have I done?”

Sam took a deep breath and pulled the hands away from his mouth leisurely. Dean kept watching him carefully, not daring to move. He was looking for any sign for what he had done wrong, but he could find nothing, neither in Sam’s face nor in the web of his emotions.

“Why are you crying, Sammy?”

Sam wiped the tears and gave Dean a radiant smile which could be hardly faked. “It’s just…” he started, but his voice faltered. He shook his head again and chuckled, pulling Dean into his embrace. “I can feel you in my heart,” he whispered and laughed again. “It sounds stupid, but… I’m unable to describe it. I’m just very happy, that has to be enough for you,” he said in the end and kissed Dean as he had never done before. It was neither a lustful nor chaste kiss or anything in between. It was sensual and hot, eager and slow in the same time, fond and desirous, soft and loving, deep and demanding. Unique.

“Move,” Sam said after their mouths parted. “Give it to me.”

Dean smiled and pressed a small kiss on Sam’s chin before he started pushing into him again, gentle shoves turning into hard, ferocious thrusts, and Sam kept moaning and sighing magnificently, responding with counterthrusts of his hips. The air around them was charged with that magical energy, lighting up sparks within Dean’s body until they united in one big fire. Dean moaned as he came hard, buried deep in Sam’s body…

Sweaty and sated, he sank on Sam’s body still shivering. Sam wrapped his arms around him immediately, kissing Dean’s face, whispering “my Dean” in a soft voice. Dean allowed himself to indulge in that feeling, enjoying Sam’s gentle kisses and loving caresses, but he was softening inside Sam’s body and it was not good. He kissed Sam and then pulled out of him carefully. Sam’s response to that was a regretful whine. Dean chuckled and kissed him again, but he could feel the blanket of Sam’s feelings around him loosened.

He rolled away, Sam’s gaze following him and when he looked carefully, he could see the plea _Don’t leave me._

 _I’m not going anywhere,_ he thought and smiled, bending over his brother and sharing several soft kisses with him. Sam purred contentedly and there was a great deal of relief in the way he kissed back.

Dean touched Sam’s face tenderly, sliding his hand slowly down to Sam’s neck, to his chest, running the palm over both nipples. Sam sighed into Dean’s mouth, but he never stopped kissing him. Dean moved his hands lower on the wet spot decorating Sam’s belly and then even lower to his brother’s hard cock demanding attention. He cupped it and caressed and smiled roguishly as Sam groaned.

“We should take care of this, shouldn’t we?” he said in a low, velvety voice. “How do you want it? I can continue with my hand,” he gave Sam’s cock a gentle pull, watching as Sam’s eyes darkened and he sighed quietly, “or I can blow you,” he continued, licking his lips lasciviously, “or…” Dean took a deep breath, “we can try what that knot of yours is good for…”

He left the implication hang in the air, but his fingers curled around Sam’s knot in a clear offer and squeezed lightly.

Sam’s eyes widened. “N-no!” he stuttered. “No, I’ll… I’ll hurt you.”

Dean felt a little bit offended by the unambiguous refusal. “How?” he asked, hoping his voice sounded seductive. He wasn’t giving up so easily.

Sam looked at him with true concern. “The moment there’s pressure around it, it’ll grow. What if it’s too big for you?”

“What if it’s just right?”

“You don’t know that. And, Dean, when it grows, we’re stuck…”

“I know,” Dean said impatiently.

“I won’t be able to pull out until the knot shrivels back into its normal size.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I _know._ ”

“What if it hurts? What if it’s too much for you? Or too long?” There was fear in Sam’s tone, a horror of the possibility to hurt Dean, of causing him any unnecessary pain or of simply annoying him.

“Sammy,” Dean addressed him in a soft voice, letting go of Sam’s cock and stroking Sam’s cheek lightly with his index finger instead. “If it hurts, then it hurts, it’s my fault. We know that love hurts better than anyone else. It can’t be worse than the torture after every time I leave you. But I doubt your knot will be too much for me. You are _my_ Protector, you can’t hurt me. You won’t. You were made for me.” He felt Sam’s unease dissipating slowly, instead hope was slowly sprouting within him. “And too long?” Dean laughed and continued. “Sammy, no time with you, doing anything, is too long. Do you believe me now?”

Sam reached for Dean, hugging him close. “Okay, we can try,” he said.

Dean smiled and pecked Sam’s temple. “You have to let go of me, kid,” he said teasingly, earning a playful bite in his shoulder.

“Who’s a kid for you, jerk?”

Dean sniggered. “Oh, I forgot. You are _so_ adult.”  

“Idiot.” Sam chuckled, loosening his grip.

“What did you say, pumpkin?” Dean said innocently.

“Shut up,” Sam laughed, and Dean grinned and rolled on his back next to Sam.

“Where’s the lube? I’ll prepare myself.”

Sam smirked and put the bottle into Dean’s hand. Dean opened it and lubed his fingers before he led his hand between his legs. He brushed his hole lightly before he pushed his index finger in. The sensation was strange, but not uncomfortable. Sam watched him carefully, but then he put his hand on Dean’s chest, stroking him gently and sharing sweet kisses with him from time to time.

Dean pushed in a second finger, and this time it was just right for his tight hole. He couldn’t imagine how the third finger was going to fit in, not talking about Sam’s knot. But he was not backing off.

“You’re stubborn,” Sam commented, taking the lube from Dean and slicking his own fingers. Then he pushed the first one in along Dean’s two digits.

The feeling was indescribable. Sam’s finger inside, Sam’s mouth kissing his knee and Sam’s other hand touching his soft cock. Could there be anything better? Maybe Sam adding another finger.

Dean sighed and a shiver ran up his spine. _God…_ He pulled his fingers out, letting Sam work him open.

Sam scissored the fingers just like Dean had done before, sliding them in and out slowly and stretching, stretching, stretching as much as Dean’s body allowed him. Then there was the third finger and the stretching became more intense, more demanding, just more, more, more of everything. Only a few seconds later Dean realized Sam was looking for his prostate frantically, but couldn’t find it.

“Sammy, it’s okay. I’m prepared,” Dean panted. “I want you inside now.”

Sam looked at Dean, disappointment shadowing his eyes for a moment.

“It’ll be good,” Dean said, trying to encourage the kid. “It’ll be perfect.”

“Okay,” Sam said quietly and lubed his cock, using an extra amount on his knot. He positioned between Dean’s wide spread legs, but then he hesitated.

“What’s up now?” Dean asked impatiently.

“You should turn around,” Sam said in a serious tone.

“Why so?”

“It’s a more natural position for a… You know.”

“A dog, you mean,” Dean finished.

“Yeah, a dog.” Sam coughed. “Look… It’s the first time and… Better try it the easiest way and if it works, if it’s good, then we can try other positions…”

Again, Sam had a point. Neither of them knew what they were doing here and whether there would be more pain than pleasure, so trying it the most natural way was probably the best choice right now.

“Fine,” Dean said and turned around, rising on his hands and knees. “Good?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, putting his hands on Dean’s hips gingerly.

“Jesus Christ, Sammy, stop worrying, will ya? I love you. I want to feel you inside of me.”

Sam breathed out. “All right,” he said softly, running his hand up and down Dean’s back. The gesture was so gentle, so loving that Dean couldn’t bring himself to urge Sam anymore. He waited for his brother to gather his courage and when the head of Sam’s cock breached the tight ring of muscles and entered him, it was the strangest feeling of all.

Sam pushed in and with every inch he moved deeper, he was filling Dean with his overwhelming presence. Dean’s arms shivered and he sank on his elbows.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked worriedly.

“Yeah,” Dean breathed out, and even that was too much. It _was_ too much, Sam had been right, but not because of the thick cock filling him or even the thicker knot that was only yet to get inside, but it was Sam’s very essence that was filling him, filling his cells, running through his veins, he was the air Dean breathed out, he was in every groan Dean gave. And if Sam felt like this when Dean was inside of him, dear God, how perfect it was!

“Sammy,” Dean sighed, for his brain could concentrate on nothing else but his brother entering him, going deeper and deeper and then… then there was the knot pushing in and Dean groaned because it burned like bitch, his hole still too tight, but eager, so very eager to accept every part of his brother, his lover, his soulmate inside.

Sam started rocking his hips with every bit of caution at first, testing the possibilities, and Dean was amazed how easily his knot was suddenly sliding in and out. It was as though Dean’s body adjusted to it, wanting it in, gorgeously swollen.

Sam’s movements became faster, rougher, his grip on Dean’s hips as strong as iron. Dean was sure there would be dark bruises next day, the marks of the one whom he belonged to. Sam growled, giving a hard, deep thrust which Dean could feel in every fiber. He groaned, calling Sam’s name, and he could feel it, the shiver, the flood, the fireworks exploding in his cells… Sam was him and he was Sam and they were one.

He felt full and there was still hot liquid filling him, the flow slow but steady, and it was Sam in every drop. Dean didn’t want to lose that, he couldn’t lose Sam, and Sam wasn’t moving anymore, still buried deep inside of Dean, hard and leaking, but not moving because he couldn’t.

He felt hot palm caressing his back and soft lips touched his earlobe.

“That’s it,” Sam whispered. “We’re stuck.”

 _We’re one,_ Dean thought in protest, and sank on the mattress, exhausted, taking Sam with him.

He was hard again, but it wasn’t in him to reach down and stroke himself into the second orgasm. He was good, anyway. He was perfect, to be precise. Sam pressed his chest to his back and purred softly, the sound reverberating through Dean’s body.

“You okay?” Sam asked, nuzzling Dean’s cheek.

“Mhmmm,” Dean mumbled, his lips stretching into a satisfied grin. “Wonderful.”

Sam stroked his shoulder, kissing Dean’s cheek. Dean smiled turning his head and giving Sam an open-mouthed kiss. He could feel Sam’s cock in him pulsing and leaking, filling him with his release. Dean was panting into the pillow under his head, trying to relax, but how could he do that if Sam kept igniting sparks of desire in his body every now and then? And the bastard didn’t even need to do anything…

But Sam did something. He rolled his hips slightly as the knot allowed him, sending a new flame up Dean’s body.

Jesus, if Sam was going to continue like this, Dean was going to burn into horny ashes. He felt his own cock twitch under him and he couldn’t stop a moan.

“Good?” Sam asked curiously, kissing Dean’s shoulder.

“For Heaven’s sake, Sammy…” Dean panted. “You’ll kill me one day.”

“You know I won’t,” Sam said earnestly, biting Dean’s neck gently.

Fuck, Sam knew what to do… Dean sighed, trying to move his hips a little in order to give his cock some friction. “Sammy…”

Sam understood. He wrapped his arm around Dean’s waist and pulled him up on his knees. His hands caressed Dean’s hips. “Allow me.”

Dean sobbed (like a fucking girl, dammit) and nodded.

Sam took him in his hand and started stroking. Dean moaned and his body shivered. It was too much, too much for his oversensitive body, for his nerves having to deal with all that excitement and SamSamSam. And there was still going to be more, more of Sam, more of his love, more of his devotion, and Dean knew he was going to leave him never again. He belonged to Sam’s side; he was supposed to love him, to protect him as long as he was alive. Sam was the air Dean breathed, the ground Dean walked on, he was the sun above Dean’s head. He was every cell in Dean’s body, every atom. Sam was everything. No one was EVER going to take him away from Dean. Not Dad, not anyone…

Dean sobbed again, his eyes filling with tears.

“Dean… Dean… I love you,” Sam spoke to him softly, turning Dean’s universe upside down. Everything he knew lost its meaning, the only one who mattered and always would was Sam. They were bound with life and blood, they were one forever.

“My Dean, my Dean…” Sam was chanting, and Dean replied without knowing it, “Yes, always yours.”

Sam sighed, a shudder rippling through him, sending a mix of so many emotions into Dean, and they both moaned in unison. Sam grabbed Dean tighter and worked him fast, pleasure flooding Dean like a tidal wave. He gasped and came with Sam’s name on his lips.

He collapsed in the sheets, pulling Sam with him. He didn’t care that he was lying in the wet spot. He could hear Sam licking off the rest of the come from his hand and it felt kind of natural. Sam was partly an animal, so he was entitled to behave like one from time to time.

Dean was exhausted so when Sam put his wet hand on his arm, he didn’t register the claws. Sam licked the sweat from his shoulder blade and it felt nice, the gesture gentle and loving, and then Sam kissed the back of his neck and Dean thought he could die happy.

The tightness in his ass was becoming more bearable. Dean really thought that he just got used to it, but Sam proved him otherwise when he moved his hips, pulling his cock out a little and the knot moved with him. He kissed Dean’s shoulder one more time and pulled out completely.

The moment of loss was cruel. Dean felt like crying _Don’t leave me, Sam!_ , but Sam was already out, already gone, and yet close and kissing Dean, running his hands over Dean’s body, reminding him he was still there and not going anywhere.

That was when Dean understood the fear in Sam’s eyes from before. What they had just done wasn’t just lovemaking. They managed to touch and know each other’s soul, to see into the deepest corners of each other’s heart and to make the greatest promise of all – to never fail each other whatever happened.

Dean moved finally when the wetness between his thighs started being too annoying. He looked at Sam, who made room for him where the sheets were dry… and he stared with open mouth. Instead of hazel-green, Sam’s eyes were chocolate-brown and wide, his dog’s ears hanging in worry. His clawed hands kept safe distance from Dean’s body and his tail Dean had already been familiar with lay on the bed motionless.

“Huh,” Dean said stupidly, still staring at the change.

“There wasn’t really time to tell you…” Sam said apologetically, and Dean caught a glimpse of his fangs.

Dean wanted to sit up, but his ass burned and his muscles protested with every move he made. He was so tired…

“Come here, puppy,” he said in the end, stretching out his hand toward Sam. “Let’s cuddle.”

Sam blinked, but then he crawled under Dean’s arm. “You okay?” he asked.

Dean smiled. “Never better.” To prove his words he pressed a small kiss on Sam’s lips.

Sam gave a sigh of relief, snuggling close.

Dean ran his hand through Sam’s hair and touched the ears covered with soft fur. “They are beautiful,” he whispered. “ _You_ are beautiful.”

“Go to sleep, Dean,” Sam said, but the room was full of his joy.

Dean chuckled and reached for the lamp on the bedside table to turn it off. “Good night, pup,” he said into the darkness.

Sam sighed, settling more comfortably against Dean’s body, tangling his legs with his lover’s. Dean pressed a kiss to Sam’s brow and fell asleep the moment he closed his eyes.

 


	13. Consequences

 

The night brought them the sweetest dreams and when Sam woke up in the morning snuggled up to Dean, everything just felt perfect. His dog parts were gone – Sam still couldn’t believe Dean had accepted them without a blink as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Sam was thankful for that; it all was part of who he was after all. But he loved Dean even more for this, anyway.

He nuzzled Dean’s neck and breathed in. The scent was strong and rich, all Dean but there was also something more this time. Sam sensed there was something different about his brother, good different, he was just still too sleepy to find out what it was. Maybe it was the mere fact neither of them was a virgin anymore... Sam smiled and pressed a butterfly kiss on Dean’s neck.

Dean breathed out and tightened his hold on his brother. Sam chuckled and kissed the underside of Dean’s chin lightly.

“Mmmm, Sammy, go to sleep. It’s the middle of the night.”

Sam laughed softly. “It’s morning.”

Dean pressed his face to the pillow, still refusing to open his eyes. “Friggin’ early.”

“Not really,” Sam said with a grin. His inner clock was never mistaken. “If you want to sleep, you can. But if I don’t get up soon, Pamela will barge in.”

“Not fair,” Dean moaned, but finally he looked at Sam. “You look different somehow.”

Sam smiled. So it wasn’t only him who felt that. “You don’t say,” he teased.

Dean smirked. “Must be the sex hair.”

Sam laughed lightheartedly and pushed Dean on the mattress so that he could climb atop and kiss his brother. His lover.

Dean moaned, burying his hands in Sam’s hair, tousling it even more.

Sam chuckled. “Jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean replied promptly, sniggering.

“Going for the run or not?” Sam asked with hope. Dean felt more okay than he had ever since his arrival. Maybe Sam really managed to fix at least something that had been broken within his brother.

“Let me see,” Dean said in a teasing voice. “I think I am,” he said in the end, grinning.

“Perfect!” Sam cried enthusiastically and kissed Dean. He could feel Dean’s hand running down his back and giving his ass a gentle slap.

“All right, puppy. The shower’s yours. Don’t be long.”

Sam crawled out of bed and pulled on his pajamas. Dean watched him with a slight smile.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Dean licked his lips and chuckled. “I’m all sticky, so move your ass.”

Sam grinned, proud of himself. He took out clean clothes and hurried to the bathroom.

By the time he returned, Dean had already put his own pajamas on and opened the window to air the room. “You can go,” Sam told him.

Dean was quick as well and when they both were clean and ready for the run, they went downstairs to look for Pamela.

They found her in the kitchen together with Bobby. Bobby was reading newspaper and Pamela was just wiping a plate she had washed when they stepped in.

“Morning,” they greeted them.

“Morning,” Bobby mumbled in reply, not looking up from the newspaper until there was a crash of the plate breaking on the floor. Pamela was staring at Sam and Dean as though she had never seen them before, but then her expression turned from bewildered to furious.

“What the hell have you done!?” she cried, outraged.

Bobby looked at the boys finally and he understood the seriousness of the situation. He could see that, it was written all over the boys’ faces, shouting out from the depth of their eyes, it was in each their movement. All those years of concealing Sam’s existence were gone with the wind.

Pamela looked daggers at Dean, who obviously didn’t understand a fuck. “How could you? It couldn’t be more eloquent if you wrote ‘My Protector’ on his forehead! And you,” she turned to Sam, who was immediately half-shielded by his brother protectively. Bobby felt like banging his head against the table. This was so messed up… “I thought I taught you something about boundaries!” Pamela went on.

“I…” Sam started, but then he fell silent and looked at Dean helplessly.

“Yes, look at him!” Pamela fused. “Look at him closely and tell me if he doesn’t seem different. Tell me if he doesn’t _feel_ different.”

The boys stared at each other in close scrutiny, puzzlement visible in their faces, but then there it was… Sam noticed. And he looked as much horrorstruck and panicked as Pamela.

“You fucked up, Sam. Literally. Where did you leave your brain when you did it with your own brother?”

“Let’s just not be prudish now, all right?” Bobby stepped in. He couldn’t stand the sight of the boys’ faces, one still confused, the other one guilty.

Pamela turned to him, infuriated. “Just don’t tell me you think it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I’m disappointed in the boys, but we both knew that sooner or later it would come down to this. This is also our fault. We didn’t warn them.”

“Didn’t?” Pamela asked furiously in a high-pitched voice. “Sam knows very well there’s a line between what is accepted and what is against the codex. But no, he listened to his dick instead of his brain.”

“The codex is rotten,” Bobby said, anger rising into his voice as well.

“It’s sacred!”

“It’s racist.” Bobby stood up from the table. “It binds you with love that is not supposed to be requited and you can do nothing about it. Where is that sacred?”

“It’s pure,” Pamela snapped and glared at the boys. “I’m done. You destroyed everything. Good luck with surviving. I really hope you’ll make it to adulthood,” she said venomously and left the kitchen. A few seconds later they could hear the slam of the front door.

There was an awkward silence for a moment until Bobby sank back in his chair with a heavy sigh. “Sit down,” he ordered the boys.

They took the seats at the table, both tense, apparently expecting the worst. Dean reached for Sam’s hand, his eyes full of determination. “I’m not leaving Sam. He either comes with me or I’m staying. You can’t make me…”

“Shut up, Dean,” Bobby said strictly. “I’ve never said ‘pack your crap and leave’ and I’m never going.”

“Oh…” Dean’s expression softened a little. He glanced at Sam, who was avoiding his eye, but his hand stayed in Dean’s.

“Though I strongly disapprove of what you did,” Bobby continued. “Not because of the moral issues, don’t understand me wrong. It’s a pretty peculiar thing that a Pair is blood related, but it doesn’t change the fact that Sam has no choice. It’s you or no one. That’s why I’m not judging you for that and anyone who tries is a moron.”

A brief smile curled Dean’s lips. “Thanks, Bobby.”

“Don’t thank me, idjit. Let’s talk about legality. Sam’s still too young and that makes you an abuser,” Bobby said matter-of-factly.

Dean paled before he frowned. “Are you gonna press charges against me?”

“It was absolutely consensual!” Sam mixed into the conversation, panicked.

Bobby took a deep breath. “Are you done you two? I’m saying this because I want you to realize on how many levels this is messed up. I know you were fooling around, but I never told you anything because such things belong to growing up. But I’d never have dreamed that it would go so far so soon…”

Sam turned red as he kept staring at the table guiltily while Dean’s expression was defensive, even though he said nothing.

“There’s more to that. The reason why Pam is so angry,” Bobby continued. “You already know, Sam, don’t you?”

Sam bit his lip, nodding and pulling his hand out of Dean’s. He looked like he wished to disappear in thin air. Bobby felt sorry for him, but not sorry enough to spare him the unpleasant explanation.

“Know what?” Dean demanded, frowning at Sam this time. “Why am I the only one who has no clue what all of you are talking about?”

“Sam? Would you tell your brother, please?” Bobby said, and for a moment he thought Sam would run away. There was misery in his face, panic and guilt.

“You’re a Protector,” he mumbled, eyes barely meeting Dean’s.

“What?” Dean either didn’t hear or didn’t understand, so Sam had to repeat, which obviously hurt.

“You became my Protector,” he said in a stronger voice, but Bobby would have sworn Sam was on the brim of crying.

“I… What?” Dean looked at Bobby helplessly, his eyes asking for more information.

“It’s about how you feel about Sam, Dean,” Bobby started softly. This was something even Sam could hardly have a clue about. “You returned his love and you’re full of the urge to protect him and make him happy. These are the main attributes of a Protector.”

“Yes. And?”

“You know yourself it wasn’t just sex.”

Both boys winced at the s-word, embarrassment visible in their faces. It would have been adorable if it hadn’t been so serious.

“It was a ritual,” Bobby continued, his voice calm and low.

Dean gave him a curious look, but didn’t dare to ask.

“When Sam filled you…”

Dean groaned. “You know even that.”

Bobby ignored him and continued. “When he filled you, he practically infected you with a Protector’s essence. You are still a Warrior, but you also became Sam’s Protector with all his duties minus the ability to change your form since you haven’t been possessed by an animal spirit.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Dean asked warily.

“Well, aside from the fact it’s not entirely natural, you’re in the same position as Sam now. You became vulnerable.”

Understanding flickered in Dean’s eyes. Bobby could easily guess what the boy was thinking about. The insanity, the dead bodies, the monstrosity committed on Protectors…

“Damn…” Dean cursed, running a hand over his face.

Sam watched him, but didn’t ask. Bobby was sure Sam put two and two together long ago.

“That’s what Sam did to you. But obviously, it’s not where you stopped, because Sam’s different as well. You haven’t noticed probably because you took it as a fact. Sam’s been always cute and cuddly for you and he doesn’t see anyone else when you’re around.”

Sam blushed, but this time he met Dean’s scrutinizing eyes.

“What did I do?” he asked when he didn’t find anything different about his brother.

“You put a name tag on him with the whole task description. Anyone concerned can see what he is and who he belongs to. No chance of concealing anymore.”

“Fuck…” Dean cursed again, and this time even his face wore the guilty expression as well.

“Yeah, fuck,” Bobby agreed and sighed. “What worries me more than demons right now is your father. There’s no chance of hiding the truth from him, he’ll be able to see it with his own eyes, anyway. So now we have to think about what to do about him.”

Sam and Dean exchanged panicked looks.

“Crap…” Dean said quietly.

“We’re on the same board, boys,” Bobby said heavily. “I’m responsible for you so I’m getting the same crap as you two.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean said quietly, ashamed.

“We’re sorry,” Sam corrected him and stood up from the table. “I… I’m going to the room,” he said apologetically and hurried out from the kitchen.

“I think I should go after him,” Dean excused himself as well and left Bobby alone.

He hurried up the stairs and caught up with his brother just as Sam entered the room.

“Sammy,” he addressed him, urgency in his voice.

Sam froze, back turned to Dean.

“I’m not going to feel guilty for loving you. Don’t make me,” Dean continued, plea sounding in his undertone.

Sam breathed out. “We put Bobby in trouble,” he said and turned slowly to his brother, tears gathering in his eyes. “I put _you_ in danger. How could I?”

“You didn’t know. _We_ didn’t know. Sammy, don’t beat yourself for something you had no clue about.”

“I broke the rules…” Sam protested.

“You heard Bobby. The rules are racist. And I agree with him,” Dean said softly, stepping closer to Sam and pressing a small kiss on his lips.

Sam stayed utterly unresponsive to it. “What about Dad?” he asked and there was fear in his eyes.

“We’ll figure something out,” Dean promised and hugged Sam gently. “I’m not leaving you, Sammy. Not ever. That’s why I came here. To stay with you,” he whispered, and finally Sam sighed and wrapped his arms around Dean.

“I love you.”

“I know,” Dean said and smiled. “I love you, too.”

Pamela didn’t turn up that day. No one knew where she went and when she was coming back (if she was ever coming back). Bobby didn’t seem to be troubled very much about her not showing up and, truth be told, Dean didn’t miss her. Sam and he had enough to deal with right now and neither of them needed her scolding. Sam was struggling with his guilt of bringing Dean into danger while Dean refused to feel ashamed for whatever happened between them the previous night. To be honest, he felt kind of proud of himself for achieving printing his own mark into Sam’s very essence (even though it wasn’t a conscious decision). On the other hand, there was this biting fear of losing his brother to the enemy lurking in the darkness, the fear that had driven Dean into Sam’s arms in the first place and turned his sinful desire into a need.

And if it wasn’t the dark evil, then it could be Dad… At the moment, Dean feared their dad more than any evil son of a bitch. He knew how to fight such things, but he lacked the experience to oppose his father. He had always been ‘a good little soldier’ as demons used to call him mockingly. A good son. But he didn’t want to be like that anymore. Not if it meant he had to leave his brother again.

He wasn’t leaving. It was his final decision. He needed Sam and Sam needed him. Dad had to accept it. They were one package. They were a Pair.

“Want a drink?” Bobby’s voice interrupted Dean in his musing while he was sitting on a threshold of the house.

“I thought you didn’t like seeing me drinking,” he replied, looking up at the hunter handing him a glass of whiskey.

“I don’t. But I need a drink and I’m not drinking alone,” Bobby insisted. “You look like you’d use one, too,” he added.

Dean took the glass. “Thanks.” He sipped from the golden liquid, feeling its warming power. Yes, a drink was good. Every hunter’s medicine…

“Where’s your brother?” Bobby asked and occupied the free space in the doorway next to Dean.

“His hiding place,” Dean said, looking at the jeep in the distance. He could see Sam’s figure through the windows. “He needed to be alone. And so did I…”

That was true. The chaos in their minds was too overwhelming for both of them. Keeping some distance for a while couldn’t hurt. It was okay to be alone with only their emotions.

“Is he all right?” Bobby asked again.

“No.”

“You?”

“No, but I’m coping.” Dean drank from the whiskey, his eyes fixed on the jeep. He wanted to be there with Sam, but he wasn’t sure Sam wanted to be with him right now.

“Dean,” Bobby said gently. “Don’t beat yourself too hard. You’re young and horny, who can blame you for that? I’m not saying I agree with what you did, but I can understand.”

Dean gave Bobby a suspicious look, but stayed silent.

“What? I was young, too,” Bobby said lightly.

They sat in silence, drinking the whiskey.

“Is there a way to fix it?” Dean asked after a while.

“If you don’t have a time machine hidden somewhere, then no, it’s permanent.”

“This is so screwed…” Dean sighed, defeated. “Sam had a boyfriend. Did you know?”

“I figured. It didn’t last long, though. Sam’s not good in socializing. He doesn’t care much about other people…” Bobby said, the implication obvious in his words.

“Huh.” Dean couldn’t hide a trace of smile. “But what if it had?” he asked curiously.

Bobby gave him a sideway glance. “You mean if he had done it with someone before you?”

Dean shrugged with pretended indifference.

“Maybe he did,” Bobby said. “And I’m a fool I didn’t notice.”

“No, he didn’t. He told me.”

“You must feel like a champ,” Bobby teased.

Dean scratched in his hair, embarrassed.

“Look, Dean,” Bobby started in a serious tone. “I bear a good load of responsibility for this mess as well. I shoulda told you.”

“Yes, you mentioned something like that before,” Dean said blankly. “You knew, then.”

“Of course I knew. I’m the guy who married his Protector after all,” Bobby said and smiled at the boy. “So, being responsible for you or not, I’m the last person who can give you a lecture about the rules. It’s not like there is a judge and jury. There are only these deep-rooted rules that no one really understands anymore. Anyway, Karen and I had all the time in the world for ourselves. For you, on the other hand, the time you can spend together is a luxury, so I can see why you are in such a hurry...” He drank from his glass again and Dean followed his example.

There was silence for a while, not tense, but comfortable this time. Dean leaned against the doorframe and watched the clouds in the sky. It calmed him down.

“You need to know the danger,” Bobby said after a few more breaths.

“Why are we special?” Dean asked, looking Bobby square in the eye.

“You noticed,” Bobby nodded appreciatively.

Dean laughed humorlessly. “You’re kidding. I figured we are the only Pair consisting of two blood relatives. And that we’re the first and so far the only kids in a long time. There was at least a decade during which a Pair wasn’t born until Sam and I came to the world. So where’s the catch? What are we?”

“Truth? I don’t know,” Bobby admitted. “Maybe you are saviors.”

Dean snorted. “I highly doubt that.”

“Everything has a reason, Dean. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you two are related.”

“Maybe,” Dean admitted.

“Nor do I think it’s a coincidence Sam’s love has been requited.”

Dean looked at Bobby, who was watching him. Maybe there really was some deeper meaning of their existence. Maybe he and Sam were there to accomplish something. Maybe the bond needed to be as strong as possible…

“Maybe even the last night wasn’t a coincidence,” he said and grinned.

Bobby returned the grin. “Idjit,” he said with emotion. “What are you going to do now?”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, puzzled.

“You didn’t come here without a reason. Are you sticking to your plan or did the last night change something?”

“I…” Dean bit his lip nervously. “I came here to stay. You said yourself there was a place for me here…”

“There is,” Bobby agreed.

Dean looked at the jeep. “I needed to make sure Sammy was okay and I wanted to stay sure. My place is by his side. Now more than ever…”

“Very well then,” Bobby said and stood up. “Welcome home.”

Dean smiled. Those were the exact words Sam had used the previous night. He stood up as well, his eyes fixed at the figure in the old jeep. There was his home…

“Thanks, Bobby,” he said gratefully.

“Whatever. Just be happy, kid,” the hunter said with pretended indifference and disappeared in the house.

Dean drank from his glass some more before he put it on the threshold and walked slowly to the jeep. Sam was sitting in the backseat with a book in his lap and reading. Even through the metallic walls could Dean feel the storm of emotions, primarily guilt, troubling his little brother. It had to stop.

He opened the door confidently. “Scoot,” he said to Sam, who didn’t even raise his head from the book, however he shifted a little bit so that Dean could get in.

Dean looked at the book Sam was reading. _The Legend of Protectors._ He hated that book. It was full of stories that may have explained who they were and what their task was, but definitely couldn’t be understood as a bible for their kind. Hey, even the Holy Bible consisted of stories about ancient times and no one could take it literally these days, right?

“You’re studying that stuff as though it’s the Word of God,” he said.

Sam gave him a sideways glance, but otherwise he stayed silent.

“I’m sure it won’t tell you anything about our situation. You’re wasting your time.”

Sam shut the book and looked at his brother. “How do you know?”

“I talked to Bobby,” Dean said simply, holding Sam’s gaze. “It can’t be undone, Sam. We have to move on.”

“Move on?” Sam cried, disbelief in his voice. “How can we do that?”

“Easily,” Dean said and took the book from Sam. “We’re setting new house rules.”

Sam frowned. “What house rules?” he asked doubtfully.

“First of all, I’m confiscating your book,” Dean said calmly, and before Sam could protest, he continued. “From now on we’re not looking for advice in fairy-tales. We don’t need it.”

“But…” Sam started.

“Silence. I’m talking,” Dean interrupted him in a strict voice. “We’re far from what is normal in this Warrior/Protector stuff. It’s time to discover things on our own. We have much to learn, Sammy. We need to learn to work together. That means a lot of training.”

Sam threw Dean a suspicious look. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

“Well,” Dean started, glancing at the book in his hands. “We’ve changed. We’re not who we were yesterday, are we?”

“No,” Sam said slowly.

“So we need to learn who we are now and what it means to us.”

“Okay. I get it. But…” Dean followed Sam’s gaze at the stupid book.

“Sam, do you love me?” he interrupted his brother once again.

Sam looked Dean in the eye, face serious. “You’re kidding, right?” Dean could feel Sam’s love in his every cell.

“Are you ashamed for it?”

Sam blinked and then his expression softened. “Are you asking me if I’m ashamed for who I am?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Sam shook his head, but it was obvious he had no idea what Dean was trying to tell him.

“Good. Because neither am I. And I’m your Protector now,” Dean said, giving Sam a broad grin.

Sam shook his head. “It was a mistake. We shouldn’t have done it.”

“No, we shouldn’t,” Dean said. “But did you think the same this morning when you had no idea what happened?”

Sam gaped at his brother, biting his lower lip. Dean could literally see the wheels in his head spinning swiftly and he was surprised that there was no smoke coming from Sam’s ears.

“No,” Sam said in the end, “but…”

“No, Sammy. Don’t even think about it,” Dean said firmly, taking his brother’s hand. “We did it, because we wanted. Because we thought it was the right time and the right place, right?”

“Yes.” This time Sam didn’t hesitate with his answer.

“There are consequences, unfortunately, and now we need to live with it. But the… the… sex…” Dean coughed, embarrassed, “it wasn’t about breaking rules or being stubborn or too impatient… It was about us…”

“About love,” Sam said, the darkness in his soul making place for light, for hope. He shifted closer to Dean. “We knew it was going to change us,” he said quietly as if he was afraid of his own words.

Dean leaned in, his lips almost brushing Sam’s ear. “It made us equal,” he whispered.

Sam whined softly and collapsed into Dean’s arms. His heart was hammering against Dean’s ribcage – in unison with his brother’s. They both knew it, it had always been the subtext in Pamela’s words or in the stories in the stupid book – Protectors, however strong individuals they could be, they were always inferior to their Warriors.

“You’re my Protector and I’m yours,” Dean kept whispering into Sam’s ear.

“It shouldn’t be like that,” Sam murmured, but Dean could feel the sprouting doubt in those words.

“Maybe. I don’t know,” he said light-heartedly. “But it is and we should try to make the best out of it.”

Sam folded his arms around Dean’s neck and hugged him tightly. “We will,” he said, and it sounded like a promise.  

The rest of the day wasn’t much different from any other day. Sam and Dean were just chilling out in the jeep or in the yard, in Bobby’s garage or in the house. Pamela was still gone and Bobby minding his own business. The only difference was that they were not allowed to go for a run in the evening. Obviously, Dean became a guarded treasure as well. Sam could feel Dean’s annoyance as they cuddled to each other in bed, but Dean didn’t talk about it and so didn’t Sam.

Dean’s hand was resting on Sam’s hip and his thumb was caressing the bare skin right above the waistband of Sam’s pajama bottoms, the whole gesture talking about affection and the need for closeness rather than desire. Sam shared a kiss with Dean from time to time, but there was nothing sexual about it, either. They were just happy to be together and hopefully they were not going to be separated any time soon.

“Are you really staying?” Sam asked, nuzzling Dean’s jaw.

“Uhm.”

“Until when?”

“What do you mean?”

Sam took a deep breath and rested his chin on Dean’s chest, looking into his eyes. “You’re not staying here forever. And neither am I, I hope.” He smiled. “What about our deal?”

Instead of lightening up a little, Dean gave Sam a serious look. “I was thinking about taking you with me when you finish high school.”

“It’s four years.”

“I know.”

“Will you really stay with me so long?”

“It’s not so long.”

“What then? What do you want to do after we leave here?”

Dean shrugged. “The normal stuff. Saving people, hunting things…”

“Oh…” Sam rolled off Dean and lay beside him on his back.

“What?” Dean propped himself on his elbow, watching Sam closely. “You have something else in mind?”

Sam inhaled slowly. “I was thinking about college.”

Dean stared, surprised. “College?”

Sam nodded. “We could rent an apartment together. I’d go to school and you… you could go, too, or find a job. We’d be normal.”

Dean gave him a regretful smile. “Do you really think it would be so simple?”

Sam stared into Dean’s eyes, his fingers ghosting over Dean’s arm in order to maintain contact. Dean wasn’t completely opposed to such life, but it wasn’t something he longed for, either. “Why not?” Sam asked, disappointed.

“Because of money, Sammy. You’ll either have to work your ass off or apply for a student loan to afford the study. Or both.”

Sam studied Dean’s face, his hand resting flat on his brother’s arm now. Dean was doubtful. And it hurt. They could do that. They were together, so they could do anything…

“Maybe you’ll change your mind until you turn eighteen,” Dean said with a light smile.

 _Or you,_ Sam thought stubbornly, rolling on his side, showing his back to Dean.

There was a heavy sigh. “Come on, puppy.” Dean’s arm snaked around Sam’s waist and pulled him closer. “You won’t be mad at me, will you?”

Sam didn’t reply, but he pressed his back to Dean’s chest, refusing to think about anything but how comfortable it felt to lie like this with his brother curled around him.

Dean kissed his earlobe and licked the shell of Sam’s ear, then bit it gently. Sam didn’t move, enjoying these gestures of affection. Dean kissed the spot right under Sam’s ear and then slid his lips along the line of Sam’s jaw. Sam purred and turned his head to his brother. Dean smiled and their lips met in a sweet, gentle kiss. When their mouths finally parted, Dean didn’t pull away. They were breathing each other’s scent for a few more moments.

“Good night, Dean,” Sam said finally, settling comfortably against Dean’s chest.

“Good night, little brother.” Dean put his palm over the place where Sam’s heart was beating in his ribcage. Even through the thin layer of the pajama top, skin, muscles, and ribs, Sam felt as though Dean was holding his heart in his hand. _It belongs to him after all,_ Sam thought and let himself be lulled to sleep by the warm flow of Dean’s love into his veins.

The very next day Bobby took them on a road trip for the rest of the summer break. They took Dean’s Impala loaded with as many guns, ammo and weapons of different kinds. Sam had to share the backseat with supplies of food and beer and one duffel bag of clean clothes for everyone.

Bobby’s main reason for the trip wasn’t really the fact that he doubted the boys could learn anything new in the salvage yard. Most of all he wanted to occupy their hands and minds enough so that they didn’t look for opportunities to kill time in each other’s pants. As for this, he could call the mission successful, however, he had no idea whether the boys kept their hands to themselves because he was around or because they really had something better to do than study each other’s body by touch (by eye, they were studying each other’s body all right).

They were good. They didn’t have any problem to combine their abilities and skills and work together as a team. The interesting thing was how Dean looked out for Sam the whole time. Yes, it could be brotherly love, but that was also something more. Dean hardly ever let Sam out of his sight, and if he did, he followed his emotional track wherever Sam went. He guarded him without respite the whole time.

Sam on the other hand watched out for any danger from outside their little circle. He sniffed out and exorcised his first demon. The bitch surprised them (or they surprised her?) as they tried to rent a room in a motel for the coming night. In order to get it cheaper, they pretended Sam was a dog and asked for a room for two. The boys were used to share bed, anyway, and Bobby had nothing against it as long as they behaved. The kiss on Sam’s forehead every night before they went to sleep was the most Bobby witnessed. Otherwise the boys were good and focused. And exactly that focus warned them of the demon’s presence in the motel. After everything was over and they left the place to look for something else, even Bobby could feel how the air in the car was soaked with Dean’s pride of his little brother. Sam took it as a teenager he was. He rolled his eyes (even though Bobby knew he was happy and proud of himself), curled up in the backseat and fell asleep as though it wasn’t a big deal and he hunted demons every day.

It was a good experience for the boy, Bobby thought. Not that Sam had no idea what the world behind the fence of the salvage yard looked like, but he got the taste of a hunt while working with his Warrior. Finally a true action, not just practice. And they both did great. Bobby regretted only one thing – that John wouldn’t have appreciated it. He was convinced his sons were safer separated, but he had no idea how strong they really were together. He had never tried to see it…

When they returned, they found Pamela waiting for them. Sam and Dean were careful around her, but she talked to them as though nothing had changed.

“How was the trip?” she asked Bobby when both boys were out of earshot.

“Fine,” he answered shortly.

She nodded. There was evidently something on her mind. “How do they cope?”

“Better than expected.”

“Look, Bobby,” Pamela started, “I know you’re mad. I ran away, I admit…”

Bobby gave a heavy sigh. “No, you’re wrong. I’m not mad. I just don’t understand. You didn’t come here for the shelter I offered. You can take care of yourself pretty well. You came here because you were curious about Sam and you found a new purpose of your life in guiding him. That was okay with me. You needed him, he needed you. You built something here. But then he stepped outta line and things got complicated and you threw everything away. That’s what I don’t get.”

She was quiet for a long time until she finally spoke. “I think you’re right. With Jesse’s death my world shattered. Sam put it together again. He is my lifeline.”

“He’s more than that. You like him,” Bobby said, eying Pamela carefully.

She smiled coyly. “I think I do.”

Bobby poured them both a glass of whiskey. “You Protectors are strange beings. You don’t really care about anyone but your Warriors…”

“Because we live for them,” Pamela said simply and drank from her glass.

“Sometimes you should try to live for yourself,” Bobby replied, and they both fell silent.

 


	14. Training

 

School started again and everyone in the household fell into pleasant daily routine. With Pamela back the boys could enjoy morning and evening runs, no excuses. Dean lost the privilege to stay in bed in the morning, even when he didn’t feel like getting up early in the morning, but he never complained. It was something he could do with Sam and that was what counted. Then he took his brother to school. At the beginning, Bobby or Pamela were always with them, but after a couple of weeks the two of them agreed it was safe to let the boys go alone. During the day, Dean either helped Bobby with research or in the garage. From time to time they visited the town in order to hustle some money in a game of pool or poker. In the afternoon, Dean picked Sam up from school and the rest of the day was usually dedicated to training and Sam’s homework. Sam went to high school now, which meant new environment, new people, new opportunities (usually to fuck up), lots of schoolwork and parties. They hardly had any time to fool around (to Bobby’s and Pamela’s delight) and when they did have any time for themselves at all, they usually spent it cuddled up to each other in front of the TV, which neither of them watched. Sam used to fall asleep, exhausted with all that newness, and if he hadn’t been a big boy already, Dean would have carried him to bed. Truth to be told, he tried several times, but Sam was quite heavy and he woke up every time anyway.

Sam didn’t talk much about the new school. He didn’t talk about people there at all, so Dean came to conclusion that even after a couple of weeks Sam simply dropped every chance to make friends. He didn’t know Sam fitted among his schoolmates quite well, but they were important for him only to the level he felt good in their circle. When he passed the school gate, they stopped existing for him. His world revolved around Dean again. It was the kind of a relationship he had with Andy, only that Andy wanted to be more than just a nameless/faceless friend. Only now Sam realized how shallow the relationship had really been, but these people didn’t mind. They didn’t notice. They talked to him, laughed with him, whined about the loads of homework and cursed teachers, but none of them expected him to give away his secrets.

But they weren’t blind. The black car with its driver that brought him to school every morning and took him home in the afternoon didn’t escape their attention. However, it took them some time to ask. Sam considered his answer, remembering how it ended up in the old school. But he hadn’t had friends there, he hadn’t cared for them, and it had been his own arrogance and the lack of interest that had put him into the unpleasant position. These people… they were okay. It wasn’t so bad letting someone a little bit closer, even though he cared more about the possibility to exchange notes and discuss homework and coming tests than having friends.

“Who’s that guy? What is he to you?” asked the boy whose name Sam finally remembered only after a week. His name was Peter.

“He… He’s my boyfriend,” Sam answered the curious question with a slight, nervous smile playing on his lips.

“Oh…” He could see the shock in their faces, maybe even disappointment in some of them. But then they laughed heartily.

“It wouldn’t be a high school if there weren’t a gay guy. At least I don’t need to worry that you’ll steal my chick.” Peter clapped him on the shoulder and grinned widely.

Sam grinned back. “Thanks, man.”

“How long are you together?” asked Samantha, who was called Sam by everybody. It was quite confusing sometimes.

“A while,” Sam replied, blushing and smiling nervously.

“Is it serious?”

Sam inhaled and then nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think so.” He coughed. “It is.”

Samantha’s face brightened. “Great! So neither do I need to worry you’ll steal my guy,” she said cheerfully, making Sam laugh.

The first thing he did when he got in the Impala that afternoon was kissing Dean.

“Are you sure?” Dean asked, surprised.

“I said you were my boyfriend,” Sam said, grinning. “They all are commoners. No one even knows what a Protector is. It’s okay.”

“If you say so,” Dean mumbled, starting the car. He wasn’t entirely sure Sam did the right thing, but it was done and Dean had to play along. “So your boyfriend, huh? I’m gonna blow you tonight.”

Sam had to wait for the promised blowjob till the weekend. He always managed to fall asleep before Dean joined him in bed after he showered and Dean didn’t have the heart to wake him up. When they finally got to action after weeks of abstinence, the moment Sam stop ejaculated and Dean licked and wiped the last drop from Sam’s belly away, Sam fell asleep. There was no end to his apologies in the morning.

Sam’s almost constant tiredness and Pamela back in the house took them every bit of courage to make love again. Fine, maybe Bobby’s presence had something to do with it as well. Dean was frustrated and he would have loved to jerk off in the shower at least, but he didn’t want to provoke Sam. The kid had enough.

Things started getting better in November. Sam finally got used to all the novelties in his life and he was more energetic to Dean’s very pleasure and Bobby’s and Pamela’s vigilance. Therefore they were careful. They snuggled to each other in front of the TV in Saturday evening. After some time Sam pretended he fell asleep (and maybe he even granted himself a little nap) and Dean woke him up and directed to bed.

Once in the room, they threw themselves into each other’s arms, taking off clothes and collapsing on the bed, excited and naked.

“This is a bad idea,” Sam said and chuckled as Dean kept nibbling his neck.

“Yeah, it’s absolutely stupid, but I neglected my dick for a way too long, and if I jerked off, it’d mess up with your head and we’d end up like this, anyway. So we can skip that part and get right to the point, can’t we?”

Sam laughed softly, taking Dean’s face in his hands and kissing him dirty. Jesus, no fourteen-year-old should be able to kiss like that! Dean’s blood rushed to his cock and he moaned into the kiss. “Fuck, fuck…” he cursed and started humping Sam’s hip.

“We’ll get to that,” Sam said, pushing Dean away. “Where’s the lube?”

Dean opened the drawer of the bedside table on his side of the bed and took out the familiar bottle. “There’s not much left,” he commented as he opened it and coated his fingers.

“Enough for tonight?” Sam asked, spreading his legs.

“Hopefully.”

Dean put the bottle on the bedside table and pushed one finger into Sam’s body. Sam shivered and sighed; he had been waiting for this, for Dean, for having him inside. Dean played with him for a while until he pushed a second finger in while stroking himself.

They both were impatient. Sam could feel Dean’s desire to bury inside of him finally in the sharp twitches of Dean’s fingers, in the necessary jerks out and violent thrusts in, in the fast process of scissoring. The third finger was in, but it was already too long; Sam thought he’d explode if Dean didn’t enter him soon.

“Fuck this,” Dean cursed, pulling the fingers out. “You ready?”

“Always.” Sam rose from the mattress and climbed into Dean’s lap, kissing him deep.

Dean hugged his brother, fingers splayed on Sam’s shoulder blades. He pressed him close as Sam kept kissing him, their tongues tangling and untangling, testing and tasting, fighting for dominance. Dean traced the line of Sam’s spine toward his waist. Sam stopped kissing him, but didn’t pull away, only inches separated their mouths.

They breathed each other’s scent, their eyes locked. Sam waited, feeling the slow slide of Dean’s hands to lower parts of his body. Dean cupped the cheeks of Sam’s ass and squeezed. Sam sighed, bucking his hips against Dean’s crotch, their erected cocks colliding violently.

Dean groaned, attacking Sam’s mouth and bite-kissing him, all teeth and saliva. It was fierce, it was messy, and it was hot. Sam didn’t owe Dean anything. He sucked at his lower lip and bit and kissed, demanded the access into his brother’s mouth while moving his pelvis in a crazy, desperate rhythm, his cock gliding against Dean’s lower belly.

“Sammy… Sammy…” Dean chanted between kisses. It was the most beautiful song to Sam’s ears, simple in its words and melody, but complex in their harmony.

Sam folded his arms around Dean’s neck, never breaking the kiss. He wanted to lose himself in Dean’s love, to become one with him.

He pressed his body to Dean’s and kept pushing until Dean understood and lay down with Sam bending over him. Sam grinned, licked his brother’s lips and straddled his hips. He took Dean’s cock in his hands and guided it to his entrance. Dean kept watching him, his eyes never leaving Sam’s face. He was completely silent, but Sam didn’t need his brother to talk to know everything. He smiled and sank slowly on Dean’s dick, giving a long, relieved sigh as he went all the way down.

They stayed utterly quiet and motionless for a few seconds, only the soft sound of their fast breathing could be heard. Sam put his hot palms on Dean’s chest and smiled before he ran his hands over the hard, erected nipples.

Dean exhaled sharply, his fingers brushing Sam’s thighs. “Move,” he said, more pleading than commanding, and Sam smiled broadly at him, bending down and kissing Dean once more before he lifted his hips, and then slammed his ass back down. Dean gasped and his grip on Sam’s thighs tightened.

At first, Sam moved slowly, testing the ground and his ability to keep the balance, looking for some support. The burning in his ass was turning into pleasure just gradually, but he didn’t want it any other way. Love hurt, it always did, that bitter-sweet pain when you realized, and then were reminded over and over again, that you didn’t belong to yourself anymore.

Dean’s hands moved up Sam’s thighs, passed the hipbones and traced the line of his sides in gentle caresses. Not even once did either of them avert their gazes. They wanted to see their reflections in each other’s eyes, they wanted to look deep into each other’s soul… Dean took Sam’s hands into his, offering support. Sam smiled as their fingers tangled and propped himself against Dean’s hands. He knew Dean would never fail him, he would always help Sam to keep his balance – here, in bed, as well as in life. He moved his hips faster, setting the rhythm which Dean picked up easily, thrusting deep and hard into Sam’s lean body.

They moved in a perfect harmony. No word was uttered, though their emotions spoke to them clearly, colliding, mingling and merging… Their panting was interrupted by the sound of their bodies clashing together repeatedly. It was hot in the room and the heavy air was hard to breathe; their skin became slick with sweat.

Sam’s thighs were shivering with the effort, but he didn’t moderate the frantic rhythm; he didn’t mind going to his limits, he didn’t mind going beyond them as long as he could feel Dean in every atom of him body. Dean was strength, Dean was will, Dean was Sam’s essence of life. Dean was everything.

There was a sudden tug at his hands and Sam collapsed on Dean’s chest. He puffed, surprised. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam and turned them over, his cock still buried in his brother’s body. He studied Sam’s face for a moment to make sure Sam was okay before he kissed him hungrily. Sam hooked his legs around Dean’s hips, pushing him deeper. Dean sighed and started pounding into his lover again, Sam’s cock trapped between their bodies and leaking.

Sam could feel Dean’s excitement, the orgasm building up in his brother’s loin, he could feel it circulating in his own veins. Dean gasped and his body flexed, he gave the last hard thrust, sending Sam sliding up the mattress. Sam groaned and arched his back, pressing into Dean, holding on him for life.

Dean sighed and looked at Sam. “You okay, little brother?”

Sam nodded, breathing quickly. Dean was still inside him, and that was right, it was exactly where Dean was supposed to be – with Sam, around Sam, inside Sam…

“Sammy,” Dean addressed him, and they looked into each other’s eyes, into each other’s soul. Sam knew it was inevitable. He hugged Dean, burying his face in the crook between Dean’s neck and shoulder, longing for nothing less than having his brother as close as possible.

Dean pulled out slowly, and Sam couldn’t stop the regretful whine.

“Shhh, puppy. I’m here. I got you,” Dean whispered, hugging his brother back while kissing him fondly.

Dean took his time, kissing the last bits of Sam’s sorrow of loss away. Love and happiness were injected into Sam’s veins through Dean’s touch and kisses, bringing comfort to his aching heart.

Dean ran his hand down Sam’s side to his hip and let it rest there. “So? Do you want me to blow you or are you gonna knot me?” he asked with a roguish grin.

Sam glanced at his still hard and leaking cock. “What do you prefer?”

Dean laughed. “You haven’t come yet. The choice is yours.”

Sam bit his lower lip, but then grinned. “Knot you.”

Dean gave him a broad smile. “I hoped you’d say that.” He nuzzled and kissed Sam’s cheek. “Will you do the preparation or shall I do it myself?”

“I’ll do it,” Sam offered and looked around in the search for the lube until Dean pushed it into his hand. There wasn’t much left in the bottle. Maybe he should have chosen the blowjob, then, and Sam even considered saying that to Dean, but Dean was looking forward to be knotted and Sam didn’t have the heart to take his enthusiasm away.

“How do you want me?” Dean asked, smirking.

“On your knees,” Sam said without hesitation.

“Hm, kinky…”

“It’s more comfortable, isn’t it?” Sam said.

Dean shrugged and turned away from Sam, kneeling. He propped himself on his elbows to keep the balance and waited for Sam’s fingers to breach him.

Sam exhaled and licked his lips, the sight at his brother all impatient and longing for him was so damn exciting. Blood was rushing into his cock and he gave it a quick squeeze. Soon. He’ll be inside of Dean soon.

He put his hand on Dean’s hip; the skin glistening of sweat caught his attention. He pressed his lips to the small of Dean’s back and licked up the line of his spine.

“Sammy.” The voice was gentle, but Sam could hear the annoyance fueled by the impatience in the undertone. He stroked his brother’s back appreciatively before he let his hand slide to Dean’s ass. As his fingers touched the rectum, Dean gave a long exhale.

Sam reached for the lube, but then hesitated, considering the idea that had just occurred to him.

“Sammy?”

Sam sniffed and licked his lips, putting the bottle of lube away. Next second, his hands were parting the cheeks of his brother’s ass, spreading them, exposing his entrance to the world. Sam held his breath and licked the tight ring of muscles, leaving a wet trace.

“God, Sam!” Dean moaned, and his body shivered.

“Good?” Sam asked, but he already knew the answer. He licked again and then circled Dean’s hole with the tip of his tongue before he pushed it in.

“Fuck…” Dean cursed and let his head fall between his arms, his breathing rapid.

Sam pushed deeper, feeling the new shiver rippling through his brother’s body. Dean moaned again, his hands clutching the nearest pillow. Sam caressed Dean’s hips lightly, working him open with his tongue for a while. Dean buried his face into the pillow so that he prevented himself from cursing out loud, the sheets stifling his excited groans as well.

Sam pulled his tongue out, Dean’s discontent hitting him immediately. He kissed the wet, puckered skin around Dean’s entrance before he put his index finger into his mouth and slicked it with saliva. He pushed it carefully inside his brother. Dean sighed into the pillow, his body accepting Sam’s finger easily. Sam pulled it out, wetting two fingers this time and sliding them in to Dean’s obvious delight.

“Yes, yes…” Dean moaned, responding to Sam’s pushes and pulls with slight jerks of his hips.

Eventually, Sam decided Dean was prepared for him all right. He used the rest of the lube they still had to slick his cock.

When he pushed in, the world stopped existing. He wanted to be slow and careful, but he was too excited for that already. Dean’s eagerness to have him as deep as possible finally didn’t help, either. Sam pushed and pushed until his knot met the tight ring of muscles. Then he hesitated.

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean said impatiently, pushing further on Sam’s knot.

“Fine,” Sam replied, and his hold on Dean’s hips became firmer as he forced the bulge on the base of his cock inside his brother.

Dean’s groan was stifled by the pillow.

Sam inhaled sharply. Being in Dean like this felt like something he always wanted but never dared to ask for. The first time had felt like finding long forgotten home. The second time… it was like having home imprinted into his soul. He could leave, but whenever he returned, he knew he belonged here.

Pamela said it wasn’t right. Everything Sam knew about Protectors taught him that his wishes didn’t matter, that his love wasn’t supposed to be requited, that the only one whose life and happiness had a true value and therefore had to be protected was a Warrior. Sam had never thought about it much until Dean had come and said it was rubbish. He had taught Sam to doubt these things. He had taught him it was okay to want something for himself and not to feel guilty for becoming his Warrior’s most precious one. Dean had taught him it was okay to take and not only give. It was okay to be the one protected…

He made the first careful moves, sliding out and back in, the friction on his cock bringing him the pleasure he craved for. Dean panted, and there was pure lust rushing into Sam’s cells, filling him, flowing through his veins and clouding his mind. It was Dean’s feeling, but Sam adopted it, accepted it as his own, mixed it with his own desire and now wanted nothing less than break his brother into pieces and put him back together, to make him writhe and cry Sam’s name, to make him feel Sam’s love for him, to make him feel his little brother in every fiber and cell… to become one with him.

There was nothing gentle in the way Sam was thrusting into his brother now, his knot gliding in and out unbelievably easily. Dean was moving with him in a harmony, moaning quietly, his hand between his legs as he was stroking himself to another orgasm.

Sam reached there, wanting to help, to bring that pleasure to Dean himself, but he was already too lost in his own excitement, so he let Dean take care of himself in the end.

Sam bent over Dean’s back, watching droplets of sweat glistening on Dean’s neck. He wanted to taste them, lick them off, and so he did, because he could, because he was the only one with the privilege to do it. Dean sighed beautifully, tilting his head backwards and turning it to Sam… Their tongues touched, but there was no time for anything else, because the orgasm took over Sam’s body, making him pound into Dean harder, rougher, fiercer…

Sam bit into Dean’s shoulder to stifle the moan, realizing there were fangs digging into Dean’s muscle, not human teeth anymore. Blood was rushing into his knot and Sam gave the last thrust before he was unable to pull out at last…

Dean had joined him in ecstasy a few seconds later and now he was panting, his legs shaking. Sam pushed lightly at the small of Dean’s back to give him a sign he wanted him to lie down. Dean gave a low, thankful sigh as he sank on the mattress, pulling Sam with him. Sam tried to put as little weight on his brother as possible, but it was kind of hard. He was practically lying on top of him, his cock deep in Dean’s ass, swollen and pulsing, flooding Dean’s insides with Sam’s come… marking him.

“Mine,” Sam whispered as he nuzzled Dean’s neck before he dragged his tongue over the delicious, sweaty skin.

Dean groaned, jerking his hips up into Sam in agreement.

Sam smiled. He touched Dean’s shoulders, careful about the claws that decorated his fingers now. He could feel his long tail tense and sticking high above his back, his pointed ears already trying to catch any suspicious sound coming from behind the door. Sam was aware how vulnerable they were at the moment, unable to part, if anyone found them right now, it would be extremely awkward and Sam was sure there would be unpleasant consequences.

But he didn’t want to worry about such things right now. There were more important things to care about, more important someone spent and pliant under him. Sam ran his clawed hands appreciatively over Dean’s muscled arms, down his forearms until he put them over Dean’s hands. His brother splayed his fingers, letting Sam know what he wanted him to do, and Sam tangled their fingers together, claws digging slightly into Dean’s palms. Dean didn’t even flinch, he turned his head in search for Sam’s mouth and Sam granted him that wish gladly, penetrating Dean’s mouth and kissing him slowly and sweetly.

Dean sighed as their mouths parted eventually, the green eyes meeting the brown ones. A wide smile brightened his face as he said, “Next time you knot me from the front. I want to see you.”

“You mean, you want to see me grow the dog parts,” Sam said with a chuckle.

“That too.” Dean grinned and stole another kiss from Sam.

Sam smirked and circled his hips a bit, creating exciting friction in the place where his knot was stuck inside of his brother. Dean gasped and moaned, the oversensitive skin in his ass sending tendrils of pleasure into both of their bodies. Sam buried is nose into Dean’s sweat damp hair, an idea forming in his mind already.

“Don’t even think about that,” Dean said, but his voice lacked the confidence that should be there. “I’ve already had enough. I’m tired.”

Sam circled his hips again, the sweet feeling flooding their insides immediately. “Are you one hundred percent sure?” he asked, dragging his hands up Dean’s arms, over his shoulder blades and then down his sides toward his hips.

Dean groaned, but said nothing, yet Sam knew his resistance was crumbling. “Come on,” he said, pulling Dean’s hips up gently.

With a quiet whimper Dean obeyed, lifting himself on his knees again. Sam snaked his arm around his brother’s waist and took his soft, spent cock and balls into his hand, fondling them gently. Dean was breathing heavily into the pillow, pleasure fogging his brain. He wasn’t ready for more yet, but Sam could make this knotting thing good for both of them, right? Sam wasn’t able to reach another orgasm for another at least fifteen minutes, but why not to sweeten the time while their bodies were tied together?

It was a long, slow process during which Dean reached the point where he was nothing more than a moaning and sobbing pile of broken pieces, so gorgeous and beautiful. Sam was kissing his back and whispering love confessions, his free hand stroking Dean’s side while the other working him slowly but uncompromisingly into hardness. Sam was moving his hips ever so slightly as the knot allowed him, the friction driving him crazy.

He loved that. Jesus, how much he loved that…

The pleasure overload was so fucking much, but he was unable to stop, unable to let go, unable to even think straight. There was no sound of reason in his head anymore, there was only the sound of lust and need and DeanDeanDean feeling so good and right and HIS.

Dean moaned, his whole body trembling. His cock finally reacted to Sam’s teasing, growing in his hand. Sam grabbed him properly, increasing the rhythm a little bit. Dean whimpered and a cracked sob escaped his mouth. He buried his face in the pillow immediately, ashamed for his weakness. He didn’t beg, but in the way he was breaking under his lover’s hands Sam could feel the plea for bringing relief.

Sam took pity on his brother. He started jerking him off in a frantic rhythm, listening to Dean’s subdued cries into the pillow. He could feel it, the orgasm building up swiftly in Dean’s groins, and he worked him to it vigorously as though it was him reaching the climax.

And maybe it was.

Sam was far beyond the line where he could distinguish which feeling was still his and which was coming from his brother. He could feel tension in his crotch igniting the sparks of pleasure and turning them into real fire. The cock in his hand was now solidly hard and thick just like the knot in Dean’s ass. There was no possibility of even the slightest movement now, only the mind-blowing tightness and the crazy pulsing of Sam’s cock, filling Dean with a hot flood, making Sam wonder how Dean could still take it without complaint.

The air in Dean’s lungs hitched suddenly and he was coming hard into Sam’s hand and Sam was coming with him…

Pearly-white release stained his hand and dripped through his fingers onto the sheets. Dean whimpered quietly while Sam was trying to catch his breath. His knot was still swollen, making it impossible for Sam to pull out even if he wanted. Dean was a trembling wreck under him and Sam wished nothing less than to hug him, cherish him, take care of him.

He licked the come off his hand and then caressed his brother’s back. “Dean?” he addressed him softly.

“Sammy.” Dean’s voice sounded broken.

“Are you okay?”

There was a sharp intake of breath. “I will be.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t pull out just yet. The knot…”

“I’m glad you can’t,” Dean interrupted him, pure need for closeness seeping from him.

“Yeah, okay,” Sam said and placed a gentle kiss on Dean’s shoulder.

“But I’m really tired, Sammy. Can’t we…?”

“Sure, Dean. Lie down, I’m going with you.”

They sank on the bed, their bodies still joined. Dean gave a long sigh and Sam could distinguish deep cracks in his walls through which unfamiliar fear was seeping into Dean’s mind. Sam could remember that feeling from before. That night when they made love for the first time it was strong, but then Dean stored it away and replaced it with relief, love and determination. Now it reminded itself in Dean’s unspoken wish _Just hold me, Sammy, hold me tight_ and Sam listened to that mental voice, his hands roaming over Dean’s body as though he didn’t have enough, nuzzling and kissing his skin, _I’m here, Dean, I’m not going anywhere._

Dean’s cheeks were wet and there were still tears caught on his eyelashes, however, he would have never admitted that he had cried despite the obvious proof. Therefore Sam didn’t say anything, just pressed his face to Dean’s cheek in silent communication, _I need you, too._ He could feel the smile tugging at the corner of Dean’s mouth and he smiled with him. “Sap,” Dean said before he kissed Sam fondly.

Sam’s soul accepted Dean’s fear, the cold terror he didn’t understand, but it made him shiver from head to toe while Dean was balancing on the verge of sleep, lighter at heart. They both needed this, this connection, this transfer of emotions – Dean to get some rest to be able to go on the next day, week, month without a breakdown and Sam to fulfill his task as a Protector.

They needed each other.

Sam’s knot started shriveling at last and he was able to pull out from his brother’s body. Dean whimpered at the loss, but Sam didn’t let him grieve as he lay down beside him, pulling him from the wet spot, pulling him into his arms.

Dean went willingly, tangling his legs with Sam’s in the process. He hesitated only for a moment as he bent over Sam and sized him up. In the way he arched his brow and the smirk that formed on his lips Sam could see his spirit coming back.

“What?”

“I just wonder. Where’re the whiskers?”

Sam rolled his brown eyes. “Stop it. It’s not funny.”

“Isn’t it?” Dean grinned.

“No.”

Dean smirked. He reached out and ran his fingers over Sam’s pointed ears, a gentle expression settling in his face. “I like how soft they are,” he said quietly as if he didn’t want to be heard.

“Who’s a sap now?” Sam teased.

“Dork.” Dean pressed a quick kiss on Sam’s mouth. Next second Sam could feel his brother’s index finger exploring his mouth. Scowling, Sam bared his teeth and bit Dean’s finger gently.

“Thanks for the better view,” Dean chuckled and rubbed over Sam’s fang. “Really, Sammy. You should let me explore your body when you’re like this. You don’t turn into a dog much, either,” he added in a serious tone.

Sam snorted. “Only you don’t see me,” he said as he traced the tattoo on Dean’s chest with one of his claws.

“Why is that so?” Dean asked, hugging his brother and resting his head over Sam’s heart beating loudly.

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know, I didn’t really think about it. I guess it’s because I’m happier like this when I’m with you.”

“Uhm, interesting,” Dean mused.

Sam grinned. “This form has definitely its benefits.”

“Care to share?”

“I can hug you,” Sam said softly, tightening his arms around Dean.

Dean smiled against Sam’s chest. “It starts good. What else?”

“I can kiss you,” Sam continued and pressed a kiss in Dean’s hair.

“That I call a true benefit,” Dean agreed.

“And…”

“And?”

“Fucking is more natural,” Sam whispered.

Dean raised his head and whistled. “Wow, what a vocab, Sammy.”

“What? You use it on daily bases,” Sam said in an offended tone.

“Right. But let me tell you this.” Dean neared his mouth to Sam’s pointed ear. “When it’s about the two of us, it’s never fucking, okay? It’s lovemaking,” he whispered and withdrew with a roguish smile before he lay his head back on Sam’s chest, giving a long, content sigh. “Good night, Sammy.”

“G’night, Dean,” Sam replied, and, holding his brother securely in his arms, he drifted off to sleep.

He was woken up when the weight pinning him to the bed was lifted from him. He cracked one eye open to see his brother leaving the pleasant warmth between the sheets.

“Dean?” he mumbled, opening his other eye as well.

“Shower,” Dean said, picking up his pajama bottoms from the floor and pulling it on. “Sleep.” His movements were stiff and careful as he walked to the door. Sam watched him with guilt curling in his belly.

The moment Dean was out of sight, Sam got up and opened the window, taking a deep breath of fresh morning air. The smell of sex and come in the room was strong, making Sam slightly light-headed, but the thought of Dean’s obviously sore ass was an effective cure for his momentary horniness.

He looked at his perfectly human hands. Hands that could touch Dean without hurting him. He inspected them closely and watched as claws grew on them, turning them into the hands that would always fight for Dean’s safety. Letting out a quiet sigh, he sank on his four. Dog’s paws touched the floor, paws that would carry him to Dean, no matter where his Warrior was.

The claws tapped on the floor as he ran out from the room to check for Pamela. He found her in the kitchen together with Bobby.

“Hey, Sam. Where’s your brother?” Bobby asked, not even lifting his look from the newspaper he was reading. Pamela, on the other hand, gave Sam a suspicious look.

“Here,” sounded Dean’s voice from the door. Even after the shower he looked sore, moving around with careful slowness. “I’m passing the run today.”

Sam shot him a concerned look, but neither Bobby nor Pamela reacted in a similar way.

“Why is that?” Bobby asked, glancing at Dean and his Protector.

Dean stepped from one foot to the other nervously, his fingers brushing Sam’s fur. He shrugged. “I don’t feel very well.”

“What’s up with you?” Bobby’s voice was too calm, and Sam really had no idea if it was good or bad. Pamela seemed unable to decide whether to snigger or pout. The whole situation would have been comical if it hadn’t been suspicious.

Dean groaned awkwardly and tightened his grip on the dog’s fur, enabling Sam to feel his embarrassment. “Dammit,” he cursed through his teeth.

Pamela smirked as she was passing them on her way out from the kitchen. “Get ready for the run, Dean,” she said and slapped his rear playfully, making Dean wince. “Come on, Sam, we’ll wait outside.”

Sam looked up at Dean. _We’re busted, right?_

Dean snorted, patting Sam’s eared head. “Go.”

Sam threw one more worried look at Dean before he ran out from the house to wait for his brother with Pamela. Dean joined them after a while and Sam could see how uncomfortable it was for him to walk, not talking about running. On the other hand, he also had a bad feeling Pamela’s intention was making the run as uncomfortable as possible for Dean in order to punish them both (because even though Sam felt all right, seeing Dean’s effort to hide his suffering was enough of a torture). That way, the run wasn’t fun at all and they both were glad when they came back. But if they hoped for any time for each other that day, they were sorely mistaken. They were under Pamela’s or Bobby’s watch the whole day and if they were left alone, it was only when there was a guarantee they wouldn’t go further than kissing.

The day itself was exhausting. The morning was dedicated to physical training, shooting from a shotgun and fighting with knives. In the afternoon Bobby kept them busy in the garage. While Dean was fixing a car, Sam was supposed to make himself useful and help him. The rest of the day was filled with the training of their mental abilities. Feeling each other obviously wasn’t everything they were supposed to know.

“Sam, every time you touch your Warrior, you can feel the rush of his feelings. The good ones are shared, the bad ones are transferred into you and you bring relief that way,” Pamela started with her lesson. “You take the feelings for yours, they become part of you. They influence you. You experience Dean’s fear or sadness as yours.”

Sam only nodded mutely as he and Dean were sitting on the floor in the living room side by side, leaning against the couch, their legs touching. Sam could feel Dean’s curiosity, maybe a little bit of suspicion and annoyance with the supervision. Sam felt the same and he really had no idea if the feelings were originally his or coming from his brother, he only knew that Dean coped with the situation quite well while Sam felt like jumping out of his skin right now, even though he had no problem with it back in the garage. He was used to the constant presence of the adults. So he guessed he could thank Dean for this sudden discontent.

“And here’s the thing. You can block them. You can feel them, but you don’t accept them as your own.”

Sam frowned, thinking about it. “Is it possible?” He always took his ability for given. He never thought he could develop it in various ways.

“I can do it,” Dean said smugly.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “But you’re unable to mingle the feelings.”

“How do you know?”

“ _I know_ ,” Sam said, turning back to Pamela. “Why would I do that? Isn’t it in my job description to bring relief?”

“Not if it influences you too much. Or in the least convenient situation. Imagine you need courage to save your Protector, who is scared shitless. What then, hm?”

Sam had to admit Pamela had a point. “Fine. How am I supposed to manage it?”

“You mustn’t lose the control over your own feelings. You must distinguish which ones are yours and which are not. You mustn’t allow Dean’s emotions to become part of you.”

Sam looked at Dean. The feelings were already there, messing up with him. In order to find the line between what was him and what Dean, he had to pull away from his brother. The familiar indifference was coming back to him immediately, pushing the annoyance and restlessness away.

“You yourself again?” Pamela asked, and when Sam nodded, she continued. “When you touch your brother, you’ll feel the flow immediately. The trick is you mustn’t forget they’re his emotions, not yours. Ready?”

Sam glanced at Dean and nodded again. Dean offered his hand and Sam’s fingers touched it lightly.

He failed the first time. And the second time, too. And also the third, fourth and fifth time. The increasing frustration was getting in the way, because he really couldn’t say if it was his or Dean’s. Dean was trying to help, but he could hardly fake his own feelings.

“It’s useless,” Sam whined in the end, leaning into his brother, hiding his face in the crook of Dean’s neck.

Dean patted his back. “Come on, kiddo. You can do it.”

“Nope.”

“Sam,” Pamela addressed him. She was losing her patience as well.

“Leave me alone,” Sam snarled. He didn’t feel like being nice and he cared a rat’s ass if it was he feeling like that or Dean’s emotions fucking with him again. But there was calmness coming from Dean, so maybe it was really just him.

“Give us a moment,” Dean said to Pamela before she could scold Sam for his bitchy tone.

She flailed her hands in the air helplessly. “Do whatever you want. I’m done,” she said in an offended tone and left the room. Neither Sam nor Dean cared.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said gently, rubbing his brother’s back. Sam pressed closer, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck. “What’s the problem, puppy?”

Sam breathed out in Dean’s neck and shrugged. “Dunno. I concentrate on your feelings, on not letting them take over me… and I can’t do that.”

“My feelings, huh?” Dean put his hand on the nape of Sam’s neck and played with his hair for a moment. “Why don’t you concentrate on your feelings?”

Sam raised his head and looked at his brother. The hand from his neck disappeared and he missed it immediately. “I’m trying to block your feelings, not mine,” he reasoned.

“But you want to distinguish them from your feelings,” Dean said reasonably.

Sam thought about his words for a while, not breaking the eye contact. “Okay,” he said in the end, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

There were so many emotions mixing, his and Dean’s, happiness, sadness, disappointment, fear, worry, annoyance, pride, hope, and faith. Sam needed some time to go through all of them, but then he realized there was one that topped each and every one of them – the love for his brother. Dean was his everything and that was what made Sam Winchester who he was: Dean Winchester’s Protector, brother and lover. Dean was the world in which Sam lived, and Sam concentrated on his world, on his love, the rest came with that realization. Suddenly, he could feel the line between him and Dean – he didn’t like the fact, he always considered himself to be a vital part of Dean, but he was aware where he stopped and Dean began.

What wasn’t so awesome about the whole thing was the fact Dean’s feelings were still messing with him, influencing him, and Sam didn’t know how to not respond to them as he always had.

“What do you feel?” he asked Dean, snuggling in his arms.

“Excuse me?” Dean didn’t understand the question at first, but then he got it. “You mean you? I feel everything you feel, Sammy. I just know it’s you.”

“I know what’s you, but you’re still part of me,” Sam complained.

“Is that a bad thing?” Dean asked, nuzzling Sam’s ear.

“If it makes you this gentle, then no,” Sam replied without thinking, burying his nose in Dean’s skin.

Dean laughed quietly. “You’re a weirdo.”

Sam shrugged. “You love it.”

“I do,” Dean agreed, and his affection washed over Sam. “What now? Are you gonna try again or are you done for today?”

Sam raised his head and looked at Dean. “There must be a way.”

“You’re right, there must, but no one said you have to get a master degree in it today. You’re learning, Sammy. I think that seeing the line is a big progress.”

“You think?”

“I know. So, for now, you should practice this ability. And when it becomes easy for you to find me in yourself, you can take the next step.”

A broad smile brightened Sam’s face. “I knew there was a reason why I love you.”

Dean laughed. “Bitch. You love me because I’m your Warrior.”

Before Sam could react, Dean took his face in his hands and kissed him. Sam purred happily into the kiss, opening to Dean, letting him in. He could never get enough of this, of Dean, of his taste, of his love filling Sam’s veins like a drug and making him giddy. He needed this. Dean was his addiction, brightening Sam’s days with his sole presence.

“Listen,” Sam said after some time. “As my Protector, shouldn’t you be able to do the things I can? I mean the feelings.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, amused. “Do you want to find something I can learn so that you’re not alone in this?”

Sam shrugged and smirked. “Maybe.”

“Okay, let’s try.” Dean took a deep breath and closed his eyes. There was silence for a long time, until he shook his head, chuckling. “It’s more difficult than I thought.”

Sam giggled. “Well, you don’t need to get a master degree today,” he said teasingly.

“You little devil,” Dean laughed. “Seems like there’s a lot of practice before us.”

“I’m not little,” Sam protested and sighed. “But you’re right about the practice.”

“No, you’re not little,” Dean agreed. “You’re almost as tall as I am.”

“Dean, I _am_ as tall as you are.”

“No way!”

“Yes way.” Sam grinned. “I _am_ your little brother, but I am not little anymore.”

“Hm… When did this happen?” Dean asked, a light, nostalgic smile curling his lips as he sized Sam up from head to toe.

“In the course of time.”

“Of course.” He let out a huff. “Let’s practice, puppy.”

When Pamela returned into the living room after some time, she found them in deep concentration. She watched them, but didn’t try to disturb them. She let them guide each other and maybe that was the best way for them to achieve the goal. That was the natural course of the things, anyway, even though it seemed to be long forgotten. Or it was only her wishing to be more useful and needed than she was in fact.

They did well together. They figured how to learn from each other and finally discovered what working together meant. They started understanding what being a Pair meant.

They looked already tired when she took them for the run and they had to return sooner, because Sam looked like he was about to topple on his nose any second. At the end of the day, they were exhausted both physically and mentally and they dismissed the shower that evening as they could think of nothing else than bed. The moment they crawled between the sheets (and sometimes during the process totally forgot to take off the clothes they wore the whole day), they fell asleep.

“Mission accomplished,” Pamela said with a grin as she joined Bobby in the living room, handing him a bottle of beer.

“We can continue tomorrow. I wonder how long we’ll be able to do this,” he said as he accepted the offered bottle gratefully. He popped the cap and took a big gulp of the beer.

“Sam’s at school during the day and then he needs to do homework. It shouldn’t be so difficult to keep them busy all the time.”

“Busy, yes. But tired enough? I don’t want to be the one barging into their room in the middle of… something.”

Pamela sipped from her beer thoughtfully. “You know… it’s not like they’re not old enough for certain things, but…”

“What they did can’t be undone. I’m convinced they’d end up like this sooner or later, however I hoped for later than sooner.”

“I hoped for never, but you’re right,” Pamela said. “Sam still has time for such things. I’ve no idea where they’re rushing…”

“It’s not where. It’s how long. They’ve never had enough time for each other. They don’t even know how much time there’s still left for them now. Dean’s made a decision, but even he knows its validity expires the moment John passes the gate of the salvage yard. He so desperately wants to believe he can resist his father, but he’s not ready yet. That’s why the rush,” Bobby said and drank from his beer.

“When you say it like this, it sounds like you approve of their behavior,” Pamela pointed out.

“I don’t. I just can understand.”

After that they both drank their beers in complete silence.

The next morning the boys wouldn’t even have gotten up if Pamela hadn’t come to wake them up. She found them sound asleep, cuddled to each other. Dean had an arm wrapped around Sam protectively while Sam was clutching Dean’s shirt in his hands. It was obvious what they were scared of most – the separation.

And maybe it wasn’t that bad. Maybe it was just a natural way for them to make up for the lost time, to strengthen their bond and to let go of their fears. She remembered how desperate for Sam Dean had been the day he had arrived. How lost and scared. He had needed his brother and his brother had done exactly what a Protector was supposed to do – he had brought Dean peace. Since that night Dean had been calmer, more focused and relaxed.

 _Maybe I was wrong,_ Pamela thought, but then she shook her head. _No, no fourteen-year-old kid should be already having sex._

“Rise and shine, boys,” she exclaimed, patting the shins of both of them. “Come on, time to get up.”

They wriggled, and while Dean’s pouty expression was adorable as he raised his head and glared at the disturber, Sam clutched Dean’s shirt tighter and pressed his face to his brother’s chest.

“Move your ass, Sam” Pamela said energetically. “I want to see you downstairs in ten minutes. Don’t be late.”

Sam whined in protest, looking for a support in his brother, but Dean had already untangled from Sam’s grip and was getting up. _Traitor._ Sam huffed into the pillow and then sat up and watched Dean moving around the room with sleepy eyes. Dean didn’t look much better than him; eyes narrow as he held them open only by willpower, his movements slow and careless. He shuffled out of the room, Sam assumed into the bathroom.

The younger boy looked at his crumpled clothes. He would have to change it after the run… The run. Sam wasn’t sure he would keep his balance on two legs. It had been hard for him even in the evening, he had been so tired after the whole day and the long night sleep didn’t help him to restore his energy much. He yawned and took off his clothes lazily. In a couple of minutes a German Shepherd left the room.

He trotted by Dean’s side the whole time. Dean looked better now. Apparently, the cool morning air did him good and so did to Sam. He felt better after the run, more awake.

Back in the house, they took turns in the shower and then met in the kitchen. By the time Sam got downstairs, Dean had been helping Pamela with breakfast. He put a plate loaded with warm toasts in front of Sam together with butter and marmalade.

“Milk?” he asked as Sam reached for a toast.

“Please.”

Dean poured milk into a glass and handed it to Sam, who took it gratefully and drank half of it in one go. Meanwhile Dean joined him at the table with a mugful of steaming black coffee. He took a toast from Sam’s plate and coated it with marmalade before he bit into it with gusto.

Bobby joined the group in the kitchen and helped himself with toasts as well. They all ate in comfortable silence until it was time to take Sam to school.

“Let’s go, puppy,” Dean said and walked out from the kitchen with Sam at his heels.

The day wasn’t bad. It was quite fine to be honest. While Sam was at school, Dean worked in the garage and then helped Bobby with a research for Rufus. In the afternoon, he went to pick Sam up from school. They stopped in a grocery store to buy supplies and after they returned they practiced shooting from a rifle. It was a new thing for Sam, but under Dean’s supervision he mastered the gun pretty quickly. With Sam, Dean could be extremely patient, and that helped very much as well. Sam didn’t feel stressed as he usually did when Dad tried to teach him a new thing.

After the shooting session Sam did his homework while Dean practiced his mental abilities and tried to feel Sam the way Sam usually felt him. After a few unsuccessful attempts he gave up and rather discussed the things from Sam’s homework with him. It turned out he didn’t remember much about the idiotic things kids had to study. He knew only what he needed to know and he was satisfied with it. Sam, on the other hand, wanted to know everything. He had always been hungry for knowledge, the little bitch…

When Sam was finally done with his homework, they practiced controlling their emotions together. Neither of them was successful, but at least Sam found out that if he concentrated on his love for Dean more intensely, he could tune out everything else. The feelings were there, became part of him, but he managed to pay them no attention, so they didn’t mess up with him that much.

After the evening run they were tired enough to not think about making out in bed, but not as exhausted as the evening before. Finally, Pamela and Bobby left them alone, so they curled up on the floor in the living room in front of the TV and while Dean was watching with his arm folded around his little brother, Sam was leaning against him and reading a book. Dean noticed it wasn’t _The Legend of Protectors_ crap, but something normal this time, a novel maybe or a book of short stories, he didn’t care as long as Sam didn’t try to make sense of something that didn’t make sense at all (specifically the damn rules concerning the relationship between Warriors and Protectors).

After some time he realized Sam had dozed off. Dean took the book from Sam’s lap and threw it on the couch behind their backs. Then he very carefully slid his one arm behind Sam’s back and the other under his knees and he lifted his lanky little brother from the floor.

Sam cracked one eye open. “Dean?”

“Sleep, you’re safe,” Dean said, and Sam inhaled softly as he pressed closer to his big brother’s chest and fell asleep again.

Dean carried his brother out from the living room. He met Pamela in the hallway and she, seeing him with the burden, went upstairs with him to open the door of the boys’ room for him. As Dean walked in and put his treasure on the bed, she wished him good night and closed the door silently. Dean crawled under the sheet to Sam, winding his arm around him. Then he placed a soft kiss in Sam’s hair and went to sleep as well.

 


	15. What John Said

 

The next day wasn’t much different from the previous one. Getting up, the morning run, getting ready for the day, taking Sammy to school, helping Bobby, picking up Sammy from school, training, Sammy’s homework (and a lot of boredom), more training, the evening run, shower, chilling in front of the TV… There was only one thing different. When the phone rang and Bobby picked up, they both could notice how he tightened his jaw and focused his look on the two of them. And then Bobby said the most dreaded words, “Yes, John, Dean’s still here.”

The peace of the last few months was gone at once and fear settled in the boys’ hearts. What would Dad say when he saw them? Would he separate them once again and for good this time? What a price they would have to pay for their forbidden love? Because there was a price and John was coming to collect it…

Dean’s arm around Sam tightened and Sam pressed closer to him. They were ready to fight against the whole world, but how ready they were to resist their father’s wrath?

“How long do we have, Bobby?” Dean asked, and Sam could feel fingers digging into his side painfully. He didn’t try to escape them, though.

“I don’t know, Dean. Can be anytime.”

The ominous news killed any interest in night activities in the boys. Not that they stopped longing for each other, but sex was really the last thing they could think of right now. What they needed most was the feeling of each other’s closeness, they needed to know they were still together. The prospect of their dad coming brought fear and worry that neither of them would ever have admitted. They were scared shitless of the moment their father found out about them.

Although, neither of them regretted anything.

“It’s the guy’s problem, not ours,” Dean said resolutely as he held Sam in his arms a few nights later.

“No, not ours. It’s completely his,” Sam agreed, but they both felt that the problem of their father was actually a huge problem of the two of them. Who were they kidding? Still, they needed this, these words. They kept them going. They brought sparks of hope they needed so much right now. Every day Sam dreaded Dean wouldn’t wait for him outside the school gate. Every day Dean was there and the heavy rock fell from Sam’s heart.

Bobby and Pamela were very well aware of their unease and they were anxious as well. This wasn’t just John coming to ask Bobby for help. This wasn’t even the John coming to take his eldest with him (or most likely was). This wasn’t even the John coming to teach his youngest a few tricks. This was the John, the father, who was going to find out his children, his sons, had done something he had tried so hard to keep them from doing – they had become lovers.

“At least they are not like rabbits in rut anymore,” Pamela said to Bobby a few days later.

“I like them more when they’re like rabbits in rut and carefree than this nervous and scared of their own father,” Bobby said and downed his second shot of whiskey.

It took John two weeks to appear on Bobby’s doorstep.

“Where are the boys?” was the first thing he asked when he arrived.

“Good to see you, too,” Bobby said sarcastically. “Dean went to pick Sam up from school.”

John stiffened, cold eyes fixed on Bobby. “You didn’t accompany him? Are you out of your mind, leaving them alone?”

“Why?” Bobby asked, his voice even. “The town is full of commoners. I don’t remember a day when I met a Warrior or a Protector there. Most likely, the salvage yard is the only place where the guys of our sort live. So I wouldn’t be afraid of revelation. And if something like that happened, the trunk of the Impala can count for a concurrence to any army store. Besides, Dean keeps guns for him and Sam in the glove compartment and they both know how to use ‘em. They can take care of themselves.”

“You know nothing,” John spat.

“I know enough.”

“You haven’t seen…”

“Haven’t I?” Bobby interrupted John in a menacing voice. “Do you really think I’ve been sitting here on my ass ever since you dropped your son here like some luggage?”

John’s eyes sparkled dangerously and he was obviously going to say something, but Pamela was quicker.

“Guys, the boys are here,” she said, glancing out from the window.

The both men fell silent at once, looking daggers at each other while Pamela went to warn Sam and Dean about their father.

“He’s not in a good mood,” she said, seeing the deep breath Dean took and the wariness in Sam’s eyes. They followed her into the living room where the two hunters were still glaring at each other. Maybe John wanted to say something when Dean and Sam stepped in, but as his attention focused on them, all words left him. There was surprise and confusion in his face at first, but it was exchanged by understanding and red-hot fury almost instantly.

“YOU!!!” he yelled and moved in Sam and Dean’s direction, looking at first at one, then at the other as though he wasn’t sure at which one he was mad more. In the end he directed his anger at Sam. “Your sick Protector’s affection!” he cried furiously.

Sam winced, eyes wide and face flushed.

“ _Excuse me_ ,” Pamela protested sharply and glared at John as if she wanted to gut him alive.

John turned to her, eyes flashing with anger. “Are you telling me this is okay?”

“No. I’m telling you to choose your words better,” she spat, but John didn’t pay her attention anymore. His fiery look was focused on Sam again as he was coming at him.

Sam made a step back and then another, panic taking over him. But then Dean was there, shielding him from their father’s wrath.

“Dad! Dad!” Dean was backing together with his brother behind him, arms stretched out in front of him in a placatory gesture. They kept backing away from their father until Sam met the wall and Dean’s back pressed to his chest immediately. “Dad, please!” Dean said with urgency in his voice, “I can explain…”

“What do you want to explain? It’s pretty obvious what happened here,” John barked, looking daggers at his sons.

Sam could hardly breathe, pinned to the wall like this. He wanted to run, to hide, to curl up in Dean’s protective arms somewhere safe. He had never seen Dad so intimidating, but he had never seen Dean so intimidated and therefore the whole situation was a whole lot scarier.

“Dad, it’s my fault. Everything’s my fault,” Dean said.

Sam froze. Dean was his Protector, all right, but this was going too far. “Dean, what are you doing?” he hissed, but Dean only pressed him firmer to the wall.

“Sam didn’t want to,” he continued, “but I persuaded him…”

“Shut up, Dean,” it was Bobby’s voice this time. The hunter thought that the boys already got what they deserved and now it was time to give them a helping hand. “Sam is as much to blame as you are. And it’s my fault I didn’t see that coming.”

He knew what an effect his word would have on the raging lion that was John Winchester. The man was looking for a culprit and Bobby was willingly offering himself to be the one. When John turned to him sharply, he knew he achieved the goal.

“What do you mean?” John asked dangerously, his hands clenched in fists, ready to start giving punches.

Instead of answering, Bobby looked at the boys. “Dean, Sam, go to your room and don’t come out unless you’re allowed to.”

He could see Dean relax a little bit and he was just about to let Sam go, when John spoke menacingly. “No, you’re staying. I’m not done with you two yet.”

Dean straightened up by the words, tension back in his body, panic reflecting in his eyes. He must have pressed Sam to the wall with more strength than he intended, because Sam gasped for air and wriggled a little to lessen the pressure on his ribcage, of which Dean didn’t take a notice. Luckily, Pamela came to his rescue.

“You surely don’t want to have a pancake for a brother, do you?” she said to Dean, who flinched and finally freed Sam.

Sam stood next to Dean and put a hand on the small of Dean’s back. Now he needed the contact more than any time before despite the storm of Dean’s emotions that was turning him weak and useless with all that terror of possible separation and the cruel promise ‘never again’ that sounded in each John’s word.

“Sammy, don’t,” Dean said softly, but Sam ignored him and Dean didn’t make any attempt to prevent the contact.

Meanwhile, Bobby took a deep breath. “As you wish, John,” he said in a strangely calm voice. “It’s your call.”

John snorted, glaring at the hunter. “What I want to know is how the hell this happened?” he said angrily, flashing the boys an angry look. “You’re brothers, goddammit! Wasn’t that a reason enough for you to see how perverse it is? I know Sam was born with it and I’m really sorry for the cruelty of the universe, but it doesn’t justify what you did! Damn, Sam, you should know better!”

Sam gripped Dean’s shirt tighter, tears gathering in his eyes, but he didn’t let them out. Not yet at least. He needed to be strong now, even though it was hard as hell with the fears doubled thanks to his ability to reduce Dean’s worries.

“And you,” John’s attention turned to Dean. “I’d never have thought that you’d take advantage of your little brother.”

Dean winced, doubt and guilt rushing into Sam’s veins. It was so wrong, so not true, and Sam wanted to say something, to scream, but there was a big lump in his throat, preventing him from uttering a single word, while there was still the threat of his tears coming out. No, he couldn’t afford that.

“I never said no to you when you wanted to go out, never tried to stop you when you wanted to have fun. Wasn’t it enough for you? You can have every girl you want… or a guy if pink shirts and rainbow flags are what you want… but your own brother who is not even legal? How sick is that?”

“I’m sorry,” Dean said in a low, ashamed voice, hanging his head.

It felt like a punch in Sam’s guts. He loosened the grip, but then he pressed his palm flat on Dean’s back. He needed to be courageous. For both of them.

“I’m not,” he said, and his voice wavered a little. Dean gave him a scared look that was supposed to be a warning, but Sam couldn’t be silent anymore. Not when he started talking. Tears started rolling down his cheeks, but he ignored them. “I’m not sorry for being in love with Dean. Maybe I’m sorry for putting Dean into danger, but neither of us had a clue about it. That’s the only thing I’m sorry for. As for everything else, I’m not sorry. Dean didn’t take advantage of me. I wanted it as well, I agreed to it, and I’m not feeling sorry for _that!_ ”

There was a long, heavy silence in the room when everyone was staring at Sam in disbelief while Sam was glaring at his father, tears of fear and anger flowing down his cheeks. No one was going to make him feel miserable for who he was. And he refused to stay quiet when someone was trying to make Dean feel like shit because he had fallen in love with Sam. It was unfair and if Sam could do anything about it, he would. Always.

He felt his claws growing and tangling in Dean’s shirt. His other hand was balled in a fist, so no one noticed the change.

And then it happened. The disastrous explosion everyone was waiting for.

“You little, ungrateful…” John started, but Bobby’s voice stopped him.

“John!”

Even Pamela was there, standing by Sam’s side and together with Dean they tried to push him into safety behind their backs. But Sam wasn’t having that. He was determined to fight – for his life, for his love, for everything he was and wanted to be, for his future with Dean. He was not accepting being pushed into the corner and held under a golden lock as he had been his whole life. Not anymore. It was enough.

He bared his teeth and snarled, showing his long snow-white fangs to his father. He pushed the hands that was trying to get him out of sight away and stepped in front of his brother. It was his task to protect his brother now.

“What the…?” John stared for a moment.

“Sam, stop!” It was Bobby, but Sam didn’t listened to him. He listened only to Dean.

“Sammy, cut it out!”

Sam hesitated. He looked at Dean quizzically, but Dean wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were wide and he was reaching for Sam. When Sam turned his head to check what was going on, he had no time to react anymore.

“Dad, no!” he heard Dean’s panicked voice as a heavy hand landed on his cheek, sending him to the floor. His teeth clattered and he yelped as he felt the sharp pain.

“Dammit, John, stop it!” Bobby yelled, gripping the other hunters shoulder.

“Don’t you dare to do that _ever_ again!” John spat, letting Bobby drag him away from the boys.

Sam watched him with hurt in his eyes, surprise turning into helpless anger.

“No, Sammy. Please, don’t,” Dean whispered as he knelt beside Sam to check his cheek. Sam knew what he meant, his fury was surely deafeningly loud for Dean, but this time he couldn’t obey. He was too lost in his feeling of injustice and worry that he would lose Dean that he could hardly calm down now.

“You couldn’t do anything more stupid,” Pamela said as she crouched next to them. She made Sam raise his head so that she could see the damage his cheek suffered. “You’ll be all right,” she said in the end. “You deserved it after all.” She gave Sam a strict look that stopped him from any protest.

Dean’s hands were trembling with want to touch Sam, but he didn’t dare with John in the room.

“Dean, take your brother to the kitchen and find him some ice for the cheek, please,” Pamela said with a small sigh.

Dean nodded and stood up. “Come on,” he said to Sam, who got up from the floor slowly. Although Sam’s cheek stung like a bitch, it hurt more that Dean didn’t even think about offering him a helping hand. Dean either didn’t want Sam to touch him and know what was going on inside of him, or was mad and didn’t want to touch Sam at all. Or was scared, which didn’t surprise Sam. He didn’t dare to look at their father himself. Head hung, he followed Dean out from the room.

“Dean,” John’s cold voice stopped them. Dean turned to their father, Sam standing behind him obediently. “I’m giving you two days to fix this. You’re either cutting Sam off yourself or I’m gonna make you.”

Time stopped. Everything became silent… or just Sam got deaf. Dean wasn’t moving, wasn’t talking, he was just standing there and staring at John, his look empty.

“Are you insane, John?” Sam heard Bobby’s voice as though from a far distance.

“You can’t!” Pamela yelled, absolutely outraged. “Do you even realize what you demand?”

“Yes, I do,” John said coolly, his eyes still fixed on Dean. “There will be no Warrior to be killed, no Protector to be robbed of his essence. No bond, no puppy love. They will be free and alive.”

“They will be hurt and broken!” Pamela protested.

“Dean?” Sam addressed his brother fearfully, his voice breaking.

Dean turned to him, his eyes strangely glistening.

“Are you…?”

Dean turned away from Sam, not saying a word. He looked at John again.

“Dean, please, don’t,” Sam said hoarsely, and it started being hard to breathe suddenly. “Please, please, don’t do it.”

“You heard me,” John said firmly, ignoring Pamela’s and Bobby’s protests.

“I heard you all right,” Dean said in the same cold voice as his father, turning away from him. “Come on, Sam.” He walked out from the living room.

Sam followed his brother on shaky legs. “Dean, you don’t want to do it, right?” he asked, his head spinning.

Dean didn’t reply, entering the kitchen. “Sit down,” he ordered Sam as he opened the fridge. There, in a freezer, he found ice cubes he was looking for.

Sam was grateful that he could sink in a chair since his legs seemed to be close to not being able to carry him anymore. “Dean, say something. Please…”

Dean wrapped the ice in a dishtowel and sat down in a chair opposite Sam, giving him a serious look as he pressed the cold bundle to Sam’s cheek.

“You’re mad,” Sam observed.

“I am,” Dean said finally. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

Sam kept watching Dean, who held the ice on Sam’s cheek patiently. “Are you gonna… you know…” he said, unable to get the dreaded words out.

“No,” Dean said, and there was something odd in his voice what Sam hadn’t heard before, so any relief he could feel faded at once. “I’m not going to cut you off,” Dean continued, “but you should understand you put me into a very unpleasant situation.” Their eyes met, but there was no comfort in the way Dean looked at Sam. “I may not want to cut you off, but Dad will see I’ll do it sooner or later. So tell me, Sam, what am I supposed to do?”

Chill ran up Sam’s spine and he shivered. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t think…”

“And that’s the problem, Sam,” Dean interrupted him sharply. “You don’t think.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said again, suddenly feeling so small and stupid. He wished he could disappear in thin air right now and never come back. Dean being mad at him was the worst thing that could happen to him. His cheeks got wet again with bitter tears he was unable to hold back.

“Here,” Dean said, taking Sam’s hand and putting the bundle of ice and dishcloth into it. The contact enabled Sam to feel the full extent of Dean’s feelings – fear, worry, sadness, and disappointment. The last one hurt most.

“Dean,” he whined.

Dean closed his eyes and breathed out. “Shut up, Sammy. Just shut up.”

Meanwhile in the living room the three adults were glaring at each other in pure disbelief.

“You can’t be serious,” Pamela said, gravel and sandpaper sounding in her voice. She was pissed to the highest possible level.

“I am,” John said calmly, although he was far from being calm.

“You can’t want that from Dean. You can’t want that from them,” Bobby said, pissed nearly as much as Pamela.

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll hurt them beyond repair, dumbass,” Bobby growled.

“But I’ll save their lives.”

“You’ll kill them,” Pamela said. “They need each other.”

“I’ll kill them only if I let them roam the world freely,” John said angrily. “Anyway, where were the two of you when they fucked each other? You were supposed to look after them.”

Bobby winced. That was like a kick in the gut.

“I wasn’t supposed to do anything,” Pamela objected, and she reminded Bobby of the mountain lion she once had been until her powers had been locked after Jesse’s death and she could use them no more.

“Fine, I was,” Bobby snapped. “I can’t be behind their asses all the time. They’re sneaky little bastards with too little time for each other. You wonder how this happened? Question the day when you separated them ‘for their own good’.”

John’s eyes narrowed with anger. “Are you telling me I’m the one to blame?”

“Not for everything, but, yes, you carry a big part of the blame. The rest are hormones and their own stupidity.” Bobby said, trying for a calm tone this time. “John, you may like it or not, but your boys are in love. And, being you, I wouldn’t underestimate the strength of the feelings they have for each other. If you do a wrong step, you may lose both of them in a blink of an eye.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, I am warning you.”

John took a deep breath, but then inhaled slowly. “It’s not right. If only they weren’t family. They’ll be judged…”

“That’s their struggle. They made a mistake, now they have to live with the consequences.”

“Dammit, Bobby! The consequences can be their end,” John cried desperately. He didn’t expect Pamela to understand. But Bobby? Bobby was supposed to help John to protect his children. To protect Sam at least. It was so many years; there _had_ to be some sort of worry about the boy’s life.

“John,” Bobby started in a placatory tone, “the boys are safe here. I told you the town is Pair-free except our small group here. Commoners are blind, they don’t see anything, and there were precautions made, anyway. Sam’s never alone and Dean is a damn good fighter. I beg you, save their bond. They can live here happily. You don’t need Dean in your fight…”

John shook his head. “No, I can’t risk that. They’re too obvious when they’re together. Maybe they’re safe now, but you never know when a demon decides to come for a tour.”

“John, I know that you’re worried,” Pamela said, the traces of her previous anger masked under the layer of understanding, “but severing their bond isn’t the answer. It’s a big, dirty cut that leaves a wound that will never heal. Do you really want them to end up like that, broken existences?”

John ran a hand over his face. “What do you want me to do? To arrange their wedding?” he asked sarcastically.

“Don’t be a dick,” Bobby said dryly. “Leave them here. They’ll be safe.”

“No,” John said heavily. “Dean’s coming with me. He’s better off without Sam. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

Pamela wanted to protest, but Bobby gestured to her to stay quiet. “So you’re not getting Dean cut Sam off?” he asked carefully.

“You say it’ll hurt them beyond repair. Fine. But they have to learn to live without each other. They’re not gonna see each other… maybe ever. I’ll see about it. I won’t risk their exposure,” John said with determination in his voice. “I’ll sleep in a motel. I’ll come in the morning to pick Dean up,” he added and left the room.

On his way out from the house he passed the kitchen door. The boys were sitting in chairs opposite each other, Dean checking Sam’s cheek. They raised their heads when he paused to look at them, seeing the bond between them and all its alterations clearly. Sam’s eyes met John’s and there was nothing more than ice and pure hatred. Sam hated John and he was going to hate him more. John was ready to make that sacrifice in order to protect Sam from the evil out there. He would be safe without Dean… And it hurt, it really hurt to separate them once again and for good this time, but it couldn’t be helped. Their lives were more precious than their twisted relationship.

John left, but the atmosphere stayed heavy. For the first time in his life Dean felt completely lost and helpless and he didn’t care a bit if Sam felt it or not. If he did (and Dean knew he did, seeing Sam’s tears that didn’t want to stop and guilt and regret in his eyes), then the relief he brought was a punishment enough for him. Dean loved him and wanted to protect him, but this time he needed to be protected himself. Sam almost toppled into his lap as he was reaching for Dean, no matter how ashamed he felt. He wanted to do something right and Dean let him, allowing as much contact as possible.

They didn’t pull away even when Bobby entered the kitchen. “You have homework to do, Sam. Go,” he said in a tone neither too strict nor too soft.

Sam fixed his wet, questioning eyes on Dean. _Coming?_

Dean didn’t have time to react, because Bobby spoke again, “I need to talk to your brother. In private.”

Dean wiped the tears from Sam’s cheeks with his hands. “I’ll come later. Go now,” he said gently, and Sam stood up and walked out from the kitchen, throwing one last glance at Dean as he went.

“What’s up?” Dean asked when Sam was out of earshot.

Bobby sat down in the empty chair, his expression serious. “I managed to persuade your father to not insist on your cutting Sam off.”

Dean gave a loud sigh of relief. “Thank you, Bobby,” he said, his head spinning with the sudden joy of not having to choose between disobeying his father and losing his brother. But Bobby shook his head, looking even graver.

“There is a price, though, but you anticipated that, right?” the hunter continued, and Dean almost forgot to breathe.

“What does he want?” the boy asked, his voice losing all confidence.

“He wants you to leave with him tomorrow morning.”

Dean smiled wryly. “So a separation. Why doesn’t it surprise me?”

“He says that this time it’s for good,” Bobby said, and Dean’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m sorry, son, that I couldn’t do more for you.”

“That’s okay. You did as much as you could,” Dean said in a choked voice.

“I want to ask you for one thing, though...”

Dean took deep breath. “What is it?”

“Don’t tell Sam. He needs hope. He’ll wait for you however long it takes, but if he knows, it would cause him more damage than necessary. And I’m sure you’ll find your way back to him, anyway, so shut up, say goodbye and come back when you can. Deal?”

Dean stared at Bobby for a while until the words settled. Then his lips curled in a slight, conspiratorial smile. “Deal.” He stood up from the chair. “I’m going to sleep now.”

“Yeah, good night.”

“Bobby,” Dean hesitated for a moment. “I will come. But when I come, it’ll be to take Sam with me.”

“It’ll take some time, kid.”

“I know. But when I’m with him again, I want it to be forever. And that’s worth waiting a little longer, isn’t it?”

“I guess,” Bobby said, trying hard not to sound worried about Dean’s resolution.

“Take good care of him for me, will you?”

“When don’t I?”

“Right.” Dean gave Bobby a lopsided grin before he left the kitchen.

He found Sam already in pajamas and bending over one of his textbooks.

“I figured there would be no run this evening,” Sam said absolutely unnecessarily. Anxiety was seeping from him and it was obvious he was just trying to get his mind off what had happened in the living room.

“No, no run,” Dean said and sat down on the bed beside Sam sprawled on the mattress. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to do some studying here,” Sam said with a sigh.

“Any success?”

“No,” Sam said and shut the book.

They looked at each other, Sam with fear, Dean with concern. “Come here,” Dean said in the end, and when Sam made a hesitant move toward him, he simply grabbed him and rolled them on the mattress. Sam gasped as he hadn’t expected the abruptness of Dean’s action and was as tense as a string as Dean held him in his arms as they lay on the bed in a tight knot.

“I’m leaving with Dad tomorrow morning,” Dean said gravely.

Sam held his breath, his heart beating like mad. He was close to panic.

Dean put his hand on Sam’s cheek, his thumb stroking lightly under the younger boy’s eye. “Hey, puppy,” he addressed him gently. “I promised you something, didn’t I?”

“You’re not…?” Sam started hesitantly, but then he trailed off.

Dean put an arm around him and pressed him closer. “No, I’m not.”

“What about Dad?”

“He doesn’t insist anymore. Bobby saved us. I don’t know how, but he managed to bargain with him. Our bond for me leaving with him.”

Sam closed his eyes, willing the tears that started gathering in the corners of his eyes to stay there and not come out. His heavy breathing was too loud to Dean’s ears.

“It’s as much as we could hope for,” Dean said softly.

“I know,” Sam forced out, and his voice wavered a little.

“Turn around,” Dean said, and when Sam obeyed, he pressed his chest to his brother’s back immediately, winding a protective arm around him. The line of Sam’s nape was beautifully exposed and right by Dean’s face. He couldn’t resist (didn’t even want to) and started placing butterfly kisses on the warm skin, one, two, three… Sam sighed quietly, and he was crying now, eyes tightly shut, and he was giving in to Dean’s gentle kisses, to his affectionate touches. “Sleep, Sammy,” Dean whispered, and Sam had no strength to fight the tiredness anymore. He slipped into the dreamland without even realizing it.

Dean held him the whole night, chest pressed to back, he was breathing Sam’s scent, whispering “I love you” and “I’ll miss you” and “I’ll come for you” over and over again until sleep claimed him as well.

In the morning, Sam was already sick to his guts, his whole body hurt and his heart felt like cut into tiny pieces and bleeding. He was numb and his mind was fogged by sorrow. Even Dean talking to him worriedly couldn’t get through the thick veil of despair to him.

“Sammy, it’s not forever,” Dean whispered so that no unwanted ears could hear him, making his words a promise. Sam wanted to believe him, and he did, Dean had never lied to him, but he knew their father. He knew John would do anything to keep them apart.

He sobbed as a new wave of pain shot through his body and Dean’s eyes widened with some sort of surprise just before he shot out from the room, his hand clasped over his mouth.

“You’re giving him a hard time,” Bobby said as he sat down on the edge of the bed and changed Sam’s compress. “He reacts to your condition.”

In the corner of his eye Sam noticed John standing in the doorway and pure hatred filled his body and mind. Because of that he almost missed the distant plea in his head, _Please, don’t._ It sounded several times until Sam was able to concentrate on it fully, distinguishing Dean in the words, and he realized his negative emotions for John were hurting Dean maybe more than being sick and worried about his departure.

He was right, of course. He didn’t need to see, but he knew his brother was as much a mess as he was himself. Dean was hugging the toilet for almost half-hour already, and he was grateful that he had had no time to eat anything for breakfast. His stomach felt like on a swing, and his head was throbbing with almost unbearable pain. He knew that painkillers wouldn’t help him this time and that the only cure for that was leaving the place and giving the sorrow the time to become less sharp. His head wasn’t the only problem. His bones were burning with fire, his cells were turning into microscopic razors, cutting Dean from the inside.

One thing amazed him, though. His senses seemed unaffected by his shitty condition. When he looked into the mirror in the bathroom, he could see Dad waiting for him at the bathroom door, checking on him.

“Can we go?” John asked, his voice strangely emotionless.

“Yeah. I won’t be any better, I guess.”

“Good. I’ll wait for you in the yard. Say your goodbye. Don’t be long.”

Dean looked at his father, who turned around and then disappeared from his view. Maybe he had only imagined that, but John’s voice had sounded much gentler than normally. Dean didn’t linger on that thought, though. There was Sam and Sam was more important than anything or anyone else in the world.

He stepped into the room. Sam was sobbing quietly in bed and Dean could distinguish if it was because of the pain or sadness (not that there was much difference) no more. His own eyes were stinging and he couldn’t hold his own tears.

“You okay?” Bobby asked him as he stood up from the bed.

“The best I can be right now,” Dean forced out.

Bobby gave him a scrutinizing look, then he nodded and squeezed Dean’s shoulder. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Please?” The word was out before Dean could think about it, but he figured he needed the hunter’s support. He was going to break and Bobby was the only person that was holding him together with a duct tape of his kindness.

Dean came up to the bed, his legs feeling like jelly. He looked into Sam’s eyes and Sam looked right back at him, their hands tangling together.

There was nothing to say. They knew what the other one felt and that was enough to push them to the edge of complete hopelessness. Dean sat down on the bed and bent over Sam, kissing him gently. Sam reciprocated the kiss, his tears giving it a salty flavor.

Dean squeezed Sam’s hand and stood up. His eyes found Sam one last time before he slipped out from the room. _This is NOT forever,_ his mind screamed, and he hoped Sam could pick up the thought despite the lack of their physical contact.

He barely reached the stairs when his legs gave in and he curled up in a ball full of pain on the floor. Sam’s heart had just shattered and Dean’s was following its example. It was Bobby who found him and helped him back on his feet and then led him downstairs.

“You shouldn’t drive like this,” Bobby said worriedly.

“I’m okay,” Dean snapped, feeling more angry than sad.

“You’re not. Listen, if you cause a car accident and you die in the process, I’ll bring you back to life just to kill you myself.”

The corners of Dean’s mouth twitched. “I won’t die that easily.”

“I really hope so, son,” Bobby said with worry in his voice.  

Dean walked out from the house silently. John was already sitting in his car, waiting for him. Dean got into the Impala and turned the key in the ignition. When her engine started rumbling, Dean listened to her, concentrating on her comforting hoarse voice. As he drove her away from Sam, she was singing him a song about reunions, about roads leading back and about freedom Dean craved so much. She promised him to bring him back one day, to give him shelter whenever he needed, to take and love the one most important to him. And Dean believed her and let her soothe his grief, let her ignite the sparkle of hope, allowed her to make him think of future with his brother. Just him, Sammy, her, and the road…

He talked to his father only when it was necessary. Most of the time he looked for comfort in his thoughts. But he still felt grateful when they stopped in a motel and Dean could put his weary and hurting head on a pillow and beg his stomach to give it a break and stop dancing finally. The thought of Sam lulled him to sleep, but it wasn’t the healthy sleep he wished for. It was the one that brought nightmares and you felt more tired when you got up than when you went to sleep last night.

It took him three days to be able to function, three days which Sam spent in bed, sick to his bones and with fever, and only at the beginning of the fourth day he finally shuffled into the kitchen to eat something small and light. He wasn’t hopeful about his stomach to hold some proper food just yet, so he ate only some flavorless crackers and drank half a mug of herbal tea. He didn’t puke (this time), but he didn’t feel well after that, either. Strength was returning into his body only slowly and it took him more than a week to be able to go to school again.

His friends were scared and worried when they saw him and he couldn’t blame them. When he looked into a mirror, he saw nothing but a skeleton staring back at him with large eyes, larger than they should be. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin was ash-gray. Sam looked like a living dead, even his motions were automatic, not deliberate. He talked very little and he wondered what kept his friends close, especially Samantha, who seemed to be always at his heels, keeping an eye on him.

Sam didn’t know how the days were going by. They were filled with waiting for some word from Dean, for his phone call or some emotion that would have told him Dean was close. Nothing like that ever happened.

Sam didn’t even realize it was Christmas until Bobby put a gift into his hands. He didn’t remember anything from the winter break. He didn’t remember the celebration of New Year, and maybe there wasn’t even any, but he doubted that. Dean still didn’t call.

It was on Dean’s nineteenth birthday when Sam cracked eventually and came out from his safe shell of apathy. Luckily, he was alone with Samantha, who became his best friend during this time. He cried for a long time until he was able to tell her that Dean was gone and he wasn’t sure if it was for good or they would see each other again. She asked for details, but in this Sam stayed mute. She didn’t press, for which he was grateful. Instead, she brought him two chocolate chip muffins.

“What for?” he asked her, puzzled.

“To celebrate your boyfriend’s birthday, of course.” She stuck a candle into one of the muffins, then they sang Happy Birthday and shared the muffin without the candle. It was the first time Sam smiled ever since Dean’s departure.

He kept the other muffin with the candle from which he had blown out the flame. He put it on his bedside table and left it there until Pamela threw it away when mold started appearing on it.

Dean called on the beginning of March. He told Sam that he was under Dad’s constant watch and therefore it was hard to sneak to the payphone and call. There was melancholy in Dean’s voice and when Sam asked if he was okay, Dean replied his usual “I’m fine” and hung up. Sam never knew how much power it took Dean to not break down and keep going. Knives in his chest were cutting him deep even though there was nothing to cut anymore. The pain from loss never turned blunt, it was as sharp as the first day, making breathing difficult.

Dean tried to call Sam several times. Twice, Sam was at school, of course, but Bobby was there and talking to Bobby felt like balm on his hurting soul. Talking to Bobby was easy. The hunter never asked about things Dean didn’t want to talk about, but he still knew. And that knowledge helped Dean to face his emotions and express them when he thought they were too much for him.

“I so fucking miss him!” he shouted into the receiver one day when everything seemed rather pitch-black than usual gray.

“I know, son,” Bobby said, not missing a heartbeat. Bobby always knew. “How’re things going with your dad?”

“Bad.” John was obsessed with hunting down the demon that killed his wife and wanted to hurt his sons. At least that was what he said. Dean cared shit about the demon. If the son of a bitch was after them, then he would come sooner or later, no need to chase him around the whole country. And when the time came, Dean’s place was by Sam’s side, not somewhere in California or Ohio or Michigan or any other state miles, miles away from his Protector. But John didn’t want to hear anything about it. He was on his vengeance mission and he was not going to stop unless the demon was burning in Hell again.

“He still guards you as a watchdog?”

“Still.”

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. “I’ll tell Sam you called and that you will again as soon as you have the chance.”

“Yeah, tell him that. Thanks, Bobby.”

“Anytime, son.”

Sam’s fifteenth birthday was drawing closer and Dean was itching to get in the car and drive the whole way back to Sioux Falls. He wondered if Dad planned at least to call his youngest and wish him happy birthday. Dean was thinking about sending Sammy a book as a gift, but he had no time to go and see what bookstores had in stock. He didn’t want to give his brother the first book he laid his hands on. No, he wanted to put some thought into the present.

During the stop to hunt down a werewolf that troubled one of the small towns which name you never remember, Dean borrowed a camera and took several photos of the Impala. When he got the pictures developed, he picked the best one and wrote on the back side, ‘To Remind You Our Deal. Happy Birthday, Sammy’. He put the photo into a parcel, scribbled the address of the salvage yard on it and sent it.

Sam’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the picture and read the note. _Deal’s still on!_ He hadn’t counted with it anymore, but Dean’s words ignited the lost hope anew and he didn’t know if he was happy or sad at that moment. Dean wasn’t there, but there was a promise for eternity. Sam cried a lot that night, but when he got up in the morning, he felt fresher and more hopeful than any time after Dean had left.

When Samantha saw him, she knew immediately that something changed. “You still look like crap, but there’s more life in your eyes than I had a chance to see since November. What happened?”

Sam gave her a broad grin and handed her the picture.

She studied it for a moment, then turned around and read the note. “What deal?” she asked in the end.

“He’ll come for me and we’ll live happily ever after,” he said with a slightly hysterical laugh. His life was hardly a Disney story, but there was the promise he hung on like a drowning man on a straw.

Samantha looked at him and there was something strange in her eyes, maybe pity, maybe sympathy, Sam didn’t know and he didn’t even want to. Then she smiled. “It sounded awfully cheesy, you know.”

He only chuckled.

Her smile became a whole lot softer. “You deserve a happy ending. You love the guy and he obviously loves you. It’s just unfair you can’t be together.”

Sam scoffed. Unfair was an understatement, but he didn’t say it aloud. As clumsy as her support was, Sam was still grateful for it.

Dean didn’t call on his birthday, but the picture made it up to Sam for it. He didn’t know that Dean called several days later, but this time he wanted to talk to Bobby.

“How is he?” was his first question when Bobby picked up.

“It was the best birthday present ever. You gave him hope. He’s doing better. Much better. I should thank you for that.”

“Shut up,” Dean said, feeling heat in his cheeks. “And… Thank you for taking care of him.”

“Dean,” Bobby said solemnly, “family don’t end with blood, remember that.”

Dean bit his lip. “So he liked it?” he asked after a few awkward seconds.

“Haven’t I just told you?”

“Yes, you have. Good. I gotta go. I’ll call later.”

“Take care, son.”

Later meant at the beginning of the summer break a day after Sam got another photo of the passenger’s side of the Impala. There was a note again on the back side of the picture, ‘The Seat Is Reserved for You.’

Sam felt a grin spread over his face and when he talked to Dean, his first thing he asked was “When?”

Dean laughed into the receiver. “You’re not supposed to talk about it. That was the deal.” He chuckled and spoke again. “Soon, I hope. I don’t think this year, but maybe next. Or the one after. I’m not giving it more than two years, anyway.”

“Dean?” Sam’s voice wavered as he said that.

“What?”

“I love you.”

“Bitch,” Dean said with emotion.

“Jerk.”

They both giggled at that like idiots.

 


	16. At the Harvelles

 

The summer break was raging outside and Sam was bored to death. He missed Dean and even the hard training couldn’t give another course to his thoughts. He often fantasized about the day when Dean would come to take him and they would rent an apartment close to Sam’s university. They would settle down and live happily – without Dad and without monsters.

Seeing the lack of Sam’s concentration, Bobby decided the boy needed the change of environment. At first, Sam refused to go anywhere. What if Dean turned up and Sam was gone? But Pamela promised to stay and reassured Sam that if Dean showed up, she would let him know immediately. Bobby bought a cell phone a few days ago, so there wasn’t a problem to contact him.

Bobby took Sam to Ellen Harvelle. The Roadhouse wasn’t exactly the right place for a Protector he wanted to hide from curious eyes, but these hunters were mostly Warriors who had seen a Protector never in their lives. Besides, Ellen had a daughter just two years younger than Sam, so Bobby hoped Jo would help to bring Sam’s thoughts on a different track.

Ellen knew who Sam was and she helped Bobby to take some precaution. Sam wasn’t allowed to visit the bar (unless it was empty), he could always use only the back entrance that led right to the rooms. He wasn’t allowed to linger in front of the bar for too long and without an adult companion as well. Jo was said that it was because a demon was after the boy, which she thought was cool and followed Sam anywhere. Sam thought she was annoying at first, but he enjoyed competing with her in different kind of disciplines from throwing knives (which she always won to Sam’s displeasure) through tracking (in which Sam was a king) to sparring (at first Sam went easy with Jo, but he soon found out it was a mistake, because she was a true kick-ass). Whatever they did, Sam never revealed his true identity to her, and even though Bobby never mentioned anything about it, Sam felt that the hunter approved of his decision.

Days went by and Sam liked discovering new things every day, but what he loved most was the time he could spend with the weirdo of the place and genius in one person called Ash (or Dr. Badass according to the label on the door of his room). Ash showed Sam his computer and liked sharing his knowledge with the curious boy. Sam was a quick learner and he ended up helping Ash with things other hunters came to him with, because Ash knew how to do research and on top of that how to use computer while doing it. Sam was more than eager to bury himself in piles of old and new newspapers and look for anything suspicious that fitted the pattern Ash provided according to the demands of his clientele.

What was supposed to be a shitty summer turned into a rather good summer. Sam had a lot of fun and he learned something useful. Even though there was always Bobby behind his ass, Sam hardly ever registered his presence unless he needed some guidance or there were too many hunters hanging around the Roadhouse, so Bobby was there to keep a closer eye on him.

One day in August when the bar was almost empty and Sam was allowed to sit in a corner and work on something with Ash while Bobby was having his beer at the bar, talking to Ellen, and Jo was pouting at one of the tables, watching Sam and Ash, a familiar feeling of excitement filled Sam’s heart and he looked up from the papers, his eyes fixed on the door that opened and Dean walked in.

Sam slapped a hand over his mouth to suppress the gasp that almost exposed him, and Dean was looking at him, surprise in his eyes. But then Dean shook his head and straightened his back, a grin spread across his face. He averted his look from Sam and he walked to the bar in confident, steady strides.

“Hey, Bobby,” he said as he came. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Didn’t expect to see you here, either,” Bobby said, and Sam could see how careful both his brother and the hunter were despite the pretended lightness in their voices.

“The same as usual?” Ellen asked, and when Dean nodded, she handed him a bottle of beer. Dean took it and moved to the table at which Ash and Sam were sitting.

Ash stood up to greet Dean. “Hey, man,” he said cheerfully, slapping Dean’s shoulder. “What’s up this time?”

“I have some things my old man needs you to look at.”

“Sure thing.” Ash sank back in his chair while Dean drew one from another table and sat down opposite Sam, who hadn’t stopped gazing at his brother ever since Dean turned up in the doorway.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said and smiled, a trace of gentleness distinguishable in his voice.

“Hey,” Sam choked out, unable to say anything more.

Dean smirked and drank from his beer, the line of his neck perfectly exposed to Sam’s eyes. Sam knew it was deliberate, that Dean wanted him to see and stare and maybe even get aroused…

Dean put the bottle on the table, the movement absolutely simple but so damn sexy, and their eyes met once more.

“I wanted to send you this, but I guess I don’t need to anymore,” Dean said and reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out another photo of the Impala with a beer bottle standing on her roof. He put it in front of Sam, who took it reverently into his hands and turned around to read the note. ‘To Reunions’ was written there, and it couldn’t fit better the situation. When he looked up at his brother again, there was a light smile playing on Dean’s lips.

“Thank you,” Sam said and finally managed to smile back.

“Would you mind giving me a minute with Ash?” Dean asked then.

Sam glanced at the man and then back at Dean. Was this all? Just ‘hey’ and ‘here’s a picture for you’ and ‘sorry, I have business here’? He finally saw Dean after _months_ and this was everything he got?

Dean must have followed the course of Sam’s thoughts, because he said, “I’ll talk to you later,” and it sounded like a promise. Sam calmed down and left the table. He trusted Dean and if Dean said he would talk to Sam later, then he would.

Sam sat down on a stool by the bar. Bobby was gone, only his unfinished beer was standing on the board, and so was Ellen. When Sam looked around, he could see them going around the pub and asking people to leave. He was aware that it was because of him and Dean. One look in Dean’s direction was enough to feel the electric shock in his nerves, and there was always that deep recognition in Dean’s eyes when their looks met, so Sam guessed everyone around could see what they really were. Not talking about _the other thing_ …

“So you are a Protector and that’s your… what is Dean really to you? He’s not one hundred percent a Warrior, is he? How is that possible?”

Sam winced as he heard Jo’s voice just right by his side. He hadn’t noticed when she had come to join him at the bar. He had to admit she summed it perfectly. Only the answer was a little bit difficult if he didn’t want to say too much. _He was born my Warrior, you know, but when we slept together, he became my Protector, too…_

Fortunately, the rescue came in the form of Ellen, who returned to the bar. “Jo, take a cloth and go wipe the tables clean,” she ordered her daughter, who grumbled something about it not being fair, but her mother’s strict look was enough for her to do exactly what she was told to do. “Do you want something?” Ellen asked Sam.

“Beer?” Sam tried, wanting to know if Ellen would be as generous as she had been with Dean.

“No way,” she said, and maybe there was a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Why not? Dean got _his usual_.”

“Oh,” Ellen raised an eyebrow at Sam’s sass. “Now I get it. We’re talking about the legal age, right? What do you want to do? Give me away to the authorities? I’m not the only one in the bar who did something they shouldn’t have, right?”

Sam blushed and his ears turned crimson red. Of course Ellen had understood the situation the moment Dean had stepped into the Roadhouse. He glanced at Bobby, who sat back in his stool and gave Sam the look ‘Serves you right, boy’. Sam felt deeply embarrassed and he considered leaving the bar and going into his room, but he disliked the possibility of leaving the room in which he could finally see his brother after the long months. And just in that moment Dean joined them at the bar, beer in one hand while the other was stuck safely in the pocket of his jeans. Sam had a vague idea why.

“Can I borrow my brother?” Dean asked and smiled sweetly just like only he could. Yet Ellen didn’t fall for his charm.

“Only if you promise to be decent,” she said with no trace of humor in her voice.

“I’ll try,” Dean said, and there was unknown slyness in the way he spoke.

“Dean,” Bobby addressed Sam’s older brother, a warning and plea sounding in his undertone.

“I’ll try _hard_ ,” Dean promised impatiently, and his humor left him at once. He still kept his hands to himself. “Come on, Sammy.”

Sam glanced at Bobby to make sure it was okay to leave with Dean, who refused to give any promises, but Bobby only shrugged as if he wanted to say ‘Do what you want’. Ellen didn’t pay him any attention and Jo… Jo was watching Sam’s brother as if she wanted to eat him alive or something, but then he realized that the girl liked Dean. A lot. But Dean didn’t notice her, his eyes fixed on Sam. He was waiting for Sam to finally move and Sam was more than willing to grant him this wish, especially if that meant he got Dean out of Jo’s sight and he would have him only for himself.

He slid from the stool and when Dean rewarded him with the brilliant smile of his, Sam’s heart bloomed with love and happiness. “Let’s go,” he said and led Dean out from the bar into his room.

They still didn’t touch as though that moment belonged solely to them. With the shared emotions it definitely did, but Sam still wondered if Dean planned to touch him at all.

They entered the small room which became his for the time he and Bobby were staying in the Roadhouse.

“A room for one. I wouldn’t expect that,” Dean commented as he looked around.

“Bobby’s room is just next door and the walls are thin,” Sam said matter-of-factly and put the photo of the Impala on the bedside table. He was very well aware of the few steps Dean took toward him and now was standing right behind Sam, he only needed to lean back a little and their bodies would touch finally.

“It could be worse,” Dean said, his voice low.

“Yeah, but perhaps Bobby came to the conclusion that a tad more privacy wouldn’t kill me.” Sam still didn’t turn around, didn’t look at Dean.

“God bless the old grump. I’m absolutely satisfied with these arrangements,” Dean said, and his hot breath tickled Sam’s neck. The younger boy tilted his head to the side so that Dean had a better access to his skin.

“Me too,” he whispered and closed his eyes, basking in the feeling of contentment, when two strong arms wound around his middle and he gasped as he felt the violent flow of emotions – worry, fear, fury, sadness… There was so much darkness in Dean, so much pain, so much indecisiveness and anger because of that. Sam tried to block out those emotions so that they wouldn’t sweep him away and turn him into a bundle of despair, but his effort was futile, so he searched for Dean’s love under the layer of all the negative emotions and concentrate only on it. It helped a little in the end, but Sam was still trembling in Dean’s arms, trying to swallow the great lump in his throat.

“Sorry, I had to,” Dean whispered and kissed Sam’s neck.

“It’s okay. I needed that, too. Jesus, you’re a mess.”

“Look who’s speaking. You’re not any better yourself.”

Dean was right. Sam was carrying the same despair with him and anger and hopelessness and fear that one day he would find out that Dean would never come back to him again. It was his worst nightmare that step by step was turning real thanks to their father. He still believed, but how many more years could such a faith last when every day reminded him how wrong their relationship was?

Dean pressed his chest to Sam’s back and his lips traced a wet path from Sam’s shoulder to his ear. He nibbled the earlobe gently before he spoke again. “Will you do something for me?”

“Anything,” Sam said without hesitation. The thought that it could be a tricky question didn’t even cross his mind. Dean was his Warrior after all and Sam would move the worlds for him, he would kill for him, he would die for him and never question the act if it made Dean happy.

“Knot me.”

“What?”

“Knot me. I want you to knot me. I need you to knot me,” Dean whispered, his mouth tracing the line of Sam’s ear.

“You said you’d try to be decent.”

“I lied.”

“We don’t have lube.”

“We don’t need any.”

Sam turned his head to look at Dean. “You’re not serious.”

“Do I feel like I’m not?”

 _No, you don’t._ Sam looked away, but pressed firmer to his brother’s chest. “Dean, what if I…?”

“What? Hurt me?” Dean interrupted him. “What can you possibly do to me? I can bear a little bit of pain. It’s not like I haven’t known worse…”

Sam shivered. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Sammy,” Dean’s voice sounded gentle. “I’m lonely. I’m lost,” he whispered. “Do you know what it’s like?”

Sam knew perfectly well what it was like. It was the most accurate description of his own world.

“Besides, when you start leaking, there’ll be enough wetness…”

“You’re gross,” Sam said in a lame attempt of a protest. He knew he was going to give in, rather sooner than later, and it wouldn’t take Dean much more effort to crack him. Anything for Dean… Always anything…

“I’m needy,” Dean said in a velvety voice, the one that always made Sam willing to grant him every wish, but there was more in it this time. It wasn’t the tone that made Sam turn around and try to kiss Dean’s soul out of him. It was the true meaning of the words, _I’m lonely and I miss you. I need to feel you. I need to feel you are here, that we are together and that you’re mine. I need you to remind me I’m not lost. I simply need you._

Sam answered to that call with his hugs and kisses and touches… _I’m here. I will always be here for you._

Dean let his hands wander down Sam’s body until they cupped the cheeks of Sam’s ass in baggy jeans and squeezed. Sam moaned and arched into Dean, his arms folded around his brother’s neck tightening.

“So?” Dean asked absolutely unnecessarily.

“Yes,” Sam breathed out and licked his lips. “Lock the door.”

Despite his words, Sam showed no attempt to free Dean from his embrace. Dean smiled and his hands traveled from Sam’s ass to shoulders. He grabbed his brother’s arms gently and made him loose his grip. He made a few swift, cat-like strides toward the door and turned the key in the lock.

Their eyes met. Chests heaving in a fast, excited rhythm, mouths slightly open and eager to kiss and to be kissed again, lips wet and swollen. Dean returned, his steps slow and deliberate, he knew what he wanted and he was coming for it.

Sam forgot to breathe, watching Dean approaching, his nerves tingling in anticipation. Dean grabbed him none too gently and pressed close, hands cupping Sam’s ass one more time, and he lifted his brother from the floor and slammed him against the nearest wall. Sam yelped in surprise, but he didn’t let go; he wrapped his legs around Dean’s hips and concentrated on their crotches pressed to each other. Dean’s eyes never left Sam’s, not even when he thrust his hips against Sam’s, forcing an excited groan from the depth of Sam’s throat.

They kissed then, hard, violent kisses, bites actually, hungry and impatient as though there was no time to waste, as though there was not enough time in the whole world. Sam felt how he was sliding down the wall slowly and he unhooked his legs from Dean’s hips and stood down on the floor hesitantly. He was pushed against the wall immediately by Dean’s body, chest to toe. Dean grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the wall on each side of Sam’s head, his lips tracing the line of Sam’s jaw, teeth grazing the skin, tongue testing the area. Kisses turned into bites as Dean’s mouth moved down to Sam’s neck, his hands slipping into Sam’s pinned to the wall, fingers tangling.

Sam’s breathing was ragged, small gasps for air was heard as Dean kept nibbling, kept teasing, _Want you_ was screaming from his every cell.  

And then Dean stopped. His hot breath was tickling Sam’s neck, but right the moment when he wanted to ask what was wrong, Dean sank on his knees, sliding his hands slowly over Sam’s body until he reached the waistband of his brother’s jeans.

They looked at each other in a silent communication. Sam could feel Dean’s arousal through the touch and he knew that Dean could feel his ever since they had stepped into the room. Dean’s tongue came out to lick the lips bruised with all the kissing and stayed captured between them as Dean gazed at his hands on his brother’s waistband and started undoing the jeans. Then he pulled them off Sam’s hips and smiled contentedly as he freed Sam’s half-hard cock from the underwear. Sam watched him, Dean’s almost childish joy was a good change compared to all the negative emotions his brother carried.

Dean grabbed Sam’s hips, fingers digging into the skin and muscle, and pushed him against the wall as though he was afraid Sam could run if he loosened his grip just for a second. He took the head of Sam’s cock into his mouth and sucked, making Sam whimper and shiver with pleasure.

The mouth went lower, accepting Sam’s length inch by inch until Sam could feel the tip of his cock meeting the back of Dean’s throat. He groaned and looked at Dean, whose eyes were shut with tears collecting in the corners.

Dean breathed out and held Sam firmer, the command _Don’t move_ pretty obvious in the gesture. Sam didn’t even intend to. Choking his brother with his cock definitely wasn’t on his to do list for the next century. But instead of pulling away, Dean forced his throat to open and Sam felt as the tip of his now perfectly hard dick slid over the soft palate deeper. Dean was breathing fast and the tears were now rolling down his face.

“No,” Sam managed to say and he was proud of himself a lot for that since his brain didn’t seem like being able of any more complex train of thought. “Don’t…”

Dean opened his eyes and glanced at Sam and in the combination of his feelings the message was clear, _Shut up and enjoy._

Sam banged his head against the wall behind him, giving up any other protest. Dean could do whatever he wanted with him and, apparently, he was not giving up that chance. He was determined to swallow Sam’s whole length and so he did. It was so fucking hot, so fucking exciting and Sam had no idea how long he could last if Dean kept doing this.

And Dean kept doing it with pleasure. He licked the bottom side of Sam’s cock as he was pulling away, teeth grazing the soft skin gently. He sucked hard and then swirled his tongue over the head teasingly, sending a shiver up Sam’s spine. Sam moaned and his hips made a slight movement in and attempt to get his cock deeper into Dean’s mouth again, but the fingernails digging painfully into his skin were a good reminder that he was not allowed.

Dean smirked around Sam’s cock despite the tears that were drying on his cheeks and started sliding his mouth down his length once again until he had his brother all way down his throat.

“Jesus,” Sam moaned, his legs feeling like jelly, and if Dean hadn’t been holding him, he was sure his naked ass would have been kissing the floor for a long time already.

Dean sniffed into his pubic hair and that was the moment when Sam could feel the first droplets of come leaving his body.

Dean gave a choked cough and he pulled away abruptly. “Fuck,” he cursed, but he didn’t give Sam time to feel guilty, because he grabbed Sam’s cock around the pulsing but still not growing knot and wrapped his mouth around Sam’s member once again, sucking the life out of him.

Sam gasped for air and groaned loudly, and Dean was sucking and sucking as though his life depended on it, swallowing Sam’s release bravely. When he stopped finally, Sam was close to the edge.

Dean looked up at Sam, a droplet of crystal-clear come decorating the corner of his mouth. Dean licked it off, the action slow and deliberate, and he smiled smugly as Sam sighed, his desire to kiss his brother in that moment radiating into the room. Dean’s smile widened into a big, satisfied grin, and he started moving his hand up and down Sam’s cock, coating it with his release. They didn’t need to worry there wouldn’t be enough. Once Sam started ejaculating, there was enough lubricant for the whole amatory act.

Dean was slow and thorough. Not even an inch did he leave dry.

“Not the best lube in the world, but it will do,” he commented as he stood up after he was done and looked at his wet hand. “Tissues?”

Sam looked at Dean’s hand as well, but his brain was unable to process what Dean was talking about, he only knew that he was unsatisfied with the state of his hand, which was easy to solve. Sam reached out and curled his fingers around Dean’s wrist, lifting it to his mouth. Dean watched him with interest and when he started licking off the come from Dean’s palm, his eyes widened with lust.

“God, Sammy,” Dean sighed, but let his brother do the job. Sam was as thorough in cleaning Dean’s hand as Dean had been in coating his cock with the come. “Will you prepare me?” Dean asked when Sam’s licks turned into tiny kisses. Sam nodded and Dean smiled wide and brilliant before he kicked his shoes off his feet while unbuttoning his jeans and he pulled them off together with the underwear. Sam watched him with eyes darkened with arousal, he couldn’t wait to lay his hands and mouth on his brother.

Dean grinned as he noticed the growing intensity of Sam’s longing for him. He stepped closer and kissed Sam slowly, sensually, his tongue slipping into Sam’s mouth unhurriedly, enjoying the mixed taste of the two of them.

 _Come on. I’m yours,_ Sam caught the change in Dean’s emotions, impatience and lust and the will to be dominated became very clear.

Sam returned the kiss, pushing his tongue into Dean’s mouth for change and he hugged his brother, pressing to him body on body, cock touching cock, and he made a sudden move, changing their positions so that it was Dean pinned to the wall this time.

Dean gasped, but he had no time to say anything, because Sam was attacking his mouth again, kisses hard and violent. Even though Dean might have been surprised with the abruptness of Sam’s action at the beginning, but now his satisfaction was too evident and overwhelming.

Sam couldn’t help himself anymore, he was too excited, too impatient and too desperate for Dean. All the months of separation fell heavy on him and he wanted to have, to OWN _,_ to claim HIS. Dean was his friggin’ Warrior, but also his Protector and Protectors would give anything to make their charges happy.

Happiness meant seeing Dean’s smile, feeling his contentment, having him close, knowing he was safe. For now, Dean was here, in Sam’s arms, but he would be gone soon and Sam couldn’t do anything about it. He moved his mouth to Dean’s neck, and started delivering desperate kiss-bites (more bites than kisses), imprinting them into the tender flesh. It hurt, Sam could feel, but he was far beyond the line of caring, especially when Dean didn’t complain even once. He let Sam abuse his skin, bruise him in visible places, place the marks of his ownership all over Dean’s body. Dean was fine with it, he was even happy about it, and when Sam ran his hand to Dean’s thigh and made him hook his leg around Sam’s hip, he was eager to grant Sam his every dirty wish.

Sam slicked his fingers with his come and reached to the cleft between the cheeks of Dean’s ass. He stroked over Dean’s entrance before he pushed his index finger inside gently.

Dean sighed, tilting his head backwards, giving Sam a perfect access to his neck. Sam licked the line from the dent right above the place where Dean’s collar bones met to his chin. Dean sighed and shivered, but it could be also caused by Sam’s finger all the way inside his body.

One finger was always okay. It was never too much, it was even pleasant and exciting enough to want more. Two fingers, coated with a laughable excuse of lube, were more of a trouble. Dean moaned, breathing quick, but he never backed off and he didn’t allow Sam to do that for him either.

“Don’t hold yourself back, you hear me?”

Sam only nodded and pushed his third finger in. Dean gave a painful groan, but he pushed himself on Sam’s fingers uncompromisingly. It was like he wanted to feel the pain, as if the pain could cleanse him from something he didn’t want to think about, because it was too bad, too dark.

“Maybe you should turn around. If we’re doing it like this, it’ll be more comfortable for you when I knot you,” Sam suggested, sliding his three fingers in and out of Dean’s body.

Dean shook his head vigorously. “No, I don’t care. I want to see you when it happens.”

Dean’s words sounded more like a plea than an unwavering decision, and Sam had no heart to deny it to him. He wanted to see Dean’s face during the knotting as well.

“Okay, we’ll do it like this. Ready?” he asked, pulling his fingers out of Dean.

“Yeah,” Dean breathed out, and when Sam’s hands cupped his cheeks and spread them, he gave a quiet sigh, resting his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

Sam entered Dean’s body carefully, watching Dean’s face. Dean hissed shortly as Sam breached the ring of muscles, and he kept shivering until Sam was all way in.

Penetrating Dean’s body felt like piercing darkness, soft and friendly, but also scary because you never knew what was lurking under its veil. Sam had no idea what Dean was hiding and he wondered where all that darkness came from. His light couldn’t pierce through it completely, but maybe it was enough for the start. Dean was shivering in his arms, whispering Sam’s name, and he was pressing to him as if Sam was the only thing that kept him alive and he was reaching for him in his inner world like a drowning man for a life belt.

“Move, Sammy,” Dean said in a choked voice, and Sam, supporting Dean’s weight, started thrusting into him. Dean moaned, his arms wrapped around Sam’s neck, and he was leaning into him, his forehead resting on Sam’s shoulder as Sam kept pounding into him. “Yes, like that,” Dean muttered, encouraging his little brother to keep going, to _fuck the soul outta Dean,_ as Sam could recognize the wish in the mixture of Dean’s messed-up emotions.

They didn’t talk anymore, only their ragged breathing was heard in the small room. Sam didn’t slow down the pace, didn’t try to make it any easier for Dean. Dean wanted this, needed this and Sam was granting his wish, no matter the cost. They would deal with it later.

Dean moaned from time to time quietly, the leg on which he was standing was already shivering with all the strain. Sam was aware that Dean wouldn’t be able to keep his balance for too long. In order to get better support, he pressed Dean to the wall more firmly, hands gripping Dean’s ass. Dean was going lax in his arms as though he was already tired.

Sam felt the orgasm slowly building up in his groin and he sped up a little bit. Dean must have realized what was going on, because he started responding to Sam’s thrusts more energetically.

Sam groaned. Could Dean be any hotter? The animal was all beside itself with lust and pleasure. Sam gave a low growl and sank his dog teeth in the tense muscle on Dean’s shoulder. Dean yelped, more with surprise than pain, but he didn’t try to escape the discomfort. It was more like he rushed into it happily.

Sam’s body tensed and trembled as orgasm washed over him, his fangs digging deeper into Dean’s flesh, though he was careful not to break the skin, his claws scratching Dean’s ass a little, his pointed ears plastered to his skull and his tail stiff and curled to his back.

Dean groaned and his body arched as the wave of Sam’s climax mixed with pain rushed through him. Sam kept moving, but the rhythm was lazy now, especially because his knot was swelling and it didn’t take long and he got stuck inside of his brother’s body.

Dean gave a long sigh of relief and a wide smile spread across his face. “I like your dog parts,” he said and reached for Sam’s soft ear to pull it gently.

“Pervert,” Sam giggled cheerfully and then nuzzled Dean’s face, no words needed. “You’re exhausted. We should lie down,” he said after a while.

“No, no, I want to be like this,” Dean protested. “I’m okay, don’t worry.”

“No, you’re not,” Sam said. “You’re barely standing and I’m not able to support your weight much longer. We both need a more comfortable position to rest. Another orgasm, yours or mine, and you’ll be done.”

“Not true.”

“It is so,” Sam wasn’t giving up. “Come on. I’ll help you. Please. For me. I’m tired, too, Dean.”

It seemed that it was exactly what Dean needed to hear to stop being stubborn. “Okay, you sissy,” he said grumpily, but Sam could still feel warmth in the words. He chuckled and kissed Dean gently.

They sank on the floor, Dean positioned in Sam’s lap, and Sam helped him to lie down on the coarse carpet covering the floor.

“Okay?” Sam asked as he settled comfortably on top of his brother.

“Yes,” Dean sighed, looking sleepy and tired, but he never broke the eye contact with Sam.

Sam smiled. “Good.” His love was radiating into the room and Dean kept smiling as though he was intoxicated by it.

Sam kissed Dean gently. _I love you._

_I don’t care._

_I know. Love you, too._

Sam grinned, happy and satisfied, and Dean smirked smugly, running his hands over Sam’s dog ears before he wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck, playing with the soft hair on the nape of the boy’s neck. He clenched Sam’s hips with his thighs, _Here you belong,_ his gaze into his brother’s eyes was saying. As an answer, Sam kissed Dean, slow and deep, the heat from before was gone, now was time for gentleness, for appreciation, for worshipping Dean, his body and soul, as he always deserved.

Sam willed his claws disappear and he stroked Dean’s body, giving gentle, loving caresses that meant _You’re my greatest treasure._ He kissed Dean’s mouth and licked the bruised skin, saying _I love you and I always will._ He breathed Dean’s scent, thinking _You are my universe._ He looked into his eyes and he said all three at once.

Dean sighed and pulled Sam into a tight hug. _Same here._

The knot was holding them together, and they felt as if the single organism they were was complete now.

Sam wished to stay like this forever, bound to each other tightly, unable to part, and he knew Dean wished exactly the same. This moment belonged only to them, right now, they were inseparable. Sam basked in the feeling, kissing Dean, caressing him, fondling him. The darkness that had polluted Dean’s pure soul was melting slowly, pushing the things it was hiding from Sam’s inner eye away into oblivion. Dean was happy and himself again.

Sam reached between their joined bodies and stroked Dean’s member gently. The response came immediately in the form of a soft moan. Sam didn’t feel that desperation from before anymore and he wanted to take his time to bring Dean into bliss. He was stroking Dean, slowly, gently, teasing him from time to time. He knew already what Dean liked, he remembered it very well, he knew what made his brother moan and what took his breath away. He knew when Dean couldn’t take any more teasing and when he enjoyed it.

Dean was sighing in pleasure under him, no protests, no words. He was absolutely pliant under Sam’s hands, trusting his brother completely. Sam stroked and pulled, exchanging occasional rougher pulls with oftener gentle strokes while kissing Dean, swallowing many of his moans.

“Sammy,” Dean spoke suddenly, his voice hoarse and wrecked, and Sam didn’t need any explanation, because he could feel it, the slow build-up of the tension in Dean’s groin, and Dean was sighing and moaning beautifully under Sam, his body trembling, and when he reached his climax finally, he was hugging Sam as though there was no chance of letting him go ever again and he gave a short, choked cry right into Sam’s ear, pearly-white come spurting between their bodies. Sam moaned himself, his knot pulsing inside of Dean’s body violently, flooding him with more of Sam’s release.

The first wave was over, but there were still the aftershocks. Sam rolled his hips a little bit as the knot allowed him, and Dean sighed, his hands splayed on Sam’s back as if he wanted to keep him there a little longer. Sam didn’t intend to go anywhere, anyway. He shared a deep, sensual kiss with Dean, a kiss much more intense than any of the ones they shared today, _mine_ and _yours_ were screaming in their joined consciousness.

When they stopped kissing finally, they looked into each other’s eyes, sweet contentment filling the room. Dean smiled, and his pride and gratitude rushed through Sam’s veins.

Sam kissed him tenderly once again and pressed their foreheads together. “Always.”

Dean chuckled and hugged him close.

They were lying like that, waiting for the knot to shrivel, and when it finally happened, also Sam’s dog parts were gone. Sam pulled out of Dean carefully, but he didn’t roll away. Dean ran his fingers through Sam’s hair until he cupped his brother’s face. Sam leaned his head into the touch, waiting for Dean to say or do something.

“Will you help me to bed? My body aches,” Dean said at last.

“Told you it was not a good idea without lube.”

“Shut up. You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, either.”

“I could try,” Sam said with a chuckle.

“Next time, little bro. Next time you can try and fail,” Dean said with a smirk. “Now move your ass and help your elder.”

“Oh, you are SO old,” Sam drawled, amused. He kissed Dean one last time before he stood up. As he adjusted his underwear and pulled his jeans back up and zipped, he looked at his brother, sprawled on the carpet. There were bruises all over Dean’s neck and here and there Sam could still see the imprints of his teeth. On one hand, he felt proud of himself, on the other, he was worried what everyone would say when they see Dean. It was obvious what had happened between them despite their promise (okay, there had been no promise made actually, but they had surely been expected to not go this far). Sam decided not to think about it and he better appreciated the look of Dean’s half-naked body. The T-shirt Dean was still wearing was stained with his come as well as his stomach.

Sam took a deep breath and licked his lips.

Dean smirked. “What? You like what you see?”

“Totally,” Sam said and grinned. “But I also like what I smell.”

“Oh, you dog,” Dean teased and stretched out his hand. “Stop sniffing for a moment and help me on my feet. Come on.”

“How bossy,” Sam sighed, but he couldn’t get the teasing tone out of his voice. He crouched next to his brother and reached for him. Dean wound his arms around Sam’s neck and Sam would have sworn that Dean totally _enjoyed_ being held in a tight embrace and pulled up. He hung himself around Sam’s neck like someone whose legs didn’t listen to them completely and let Sam drag him to the bed.

“You wore me out,” he said with a grin.

“So I’m to be blamed you can’t take a few steps to the bed?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Who said I can’t?” Dean chuckled and lifted his weight from Sam’s shoulders.

Sam only rolled his eyes. “I could’ve known…”

Dean laughed, pressed a wet kiss on Sam’s cheek and walked to the bed with his arm still hooked around Sam’s neck. He collapsed on the bed heavily, pulling Sam with him, and he hissed quietly as his ass didn’t agree with the sudden action.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked worriedly.

“Never better,” Dean said and let go of Sam. He looked at his stained T-shirt and then at his brother’s dirtied with the come as Dean had pressed to him when Sam had helped him on feet. “I hope you have some spare clothes…”

Sam looked at his T-shirt with a sigh. “Ellen won’t like this…”

“Like you care what she thinks…” Dean said, taking off his dirty T-shirt.

“Maybe I do,” Sam mumbled as if he was ashamed of that fact.

“Then she should know better,” Dean said matter-of-factly and wiped the drying come from his belly with the poor T-shirt. Then he pulled off his socks, throwing them on the floor next to the T-shirt and crawled under thin covers. “Coming?” he asked Sam.

“What are you up to?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re naked.”

“Because my clothes are mostly dirty. The spare ones are in the trunk of the Impala and I really don’t feel like getting them right now. I’m tired and I want to sleep.”

“Are you all right?” Sam asked, concerned.

“Yeah, I’ll sleep a bit and I’ll be as good as new. Join me?”

Sam took of his shoes and lay down beside Dean, his eyes fixed on the amulet hanging around his brother’s neck, which he had given him a long time ago. Dean hadn’t taken it off ever since. Sam smiled at the thought before he noticed Dean was watching him.

“I know what you’re thinking about,” Dean said, shifting closer and he placed a slow, sweet kiss on Sam’s mouth. “Now make me a favor, puppy,” he said then.

“What favor?”

“Take off that dirty T-shirt. Or… You know what? Take off everything.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Are you complaining?”

“No.”

“Then do it.”

Sam pulled off his T-shirt and dropped it on the floor unceremoniously. Then he continued with his jeans, socks and underwear. Dean was watching him closely all the time until Sam was finished with undressing and settled on his side, facing his brother. Dean didn’t smile this time as Sam expected, neither did he say anything. Instead, he shifted closer to Sam and turned around, his back pressed to his little brother’s chest.

The touch brought Sam understanding. Dean was looking for peace and safety and Sam’s arms where the most peaceful and safest place in the world for him. Just like his were for Sam. They needed each other. They were psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent on each other, and they loved it. They loved the feeling of being each other’s anchor, haven, home…

Sam put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and let his fingers follow the path down his brother’s arm. Then he graced Dean’s shoulder with a tender kiss before he put his hand there again. The line of Dean’s neck was beautifully exposed to him and Sam used the chance to press several small kisses there. Dean breathed out and turned his head to Sam so that they could exchange a proper kiss. Then he turned away again, settling comfortably in Sam’s arms. Sam smiled and pressed one last kiss on the nape of Dean’s neck.

Sam understood why Dean wanted him naked. There was nothing sexual about the wish this time; Dean simply wanted all possible boundaries between them gone, everything that could prevent them from feeling each other’s true self, and he was sure that if they could strip their bodies and let their souls mingle, Dean would have demanded that as well. In order to give him as much of that feeling as possible, Sam opened his inner world and let his emotions flow freely and fill the room. Beside his love, here was a lot of worry, sadness and loneliness, but also happiness and gratitude for the unexpected meeting and the little amount of time he and Dean had for each other. As a thank you, Dean enabled him to peek into the dark corners of his heart, even though he still guarded the darkest corners and didn’t allow anything to slip out. Sam knew Dean was hiding particular parts of his inner world, he had been hiding them for a very long time and Sam had never had enough courage to ask. He was sure Dean wouldn’t have told him, anyway. So he took what he could, what Dean gave him willingly. Loneliness. Sorrow. Worry. And anger. Everything hidden under the deceiving layer of contentment. It wasn’t much different from what Sam felt. The question only was, if these feeling weren’t the worst of all, then which ones were? How much messed up Dean was inside? And why didn’t he want to share that with Sam?

Sam knew there was darkness in Dean’s soul. Hopelessness was biting into his brother’s bones and Dean was fending it successfully only when he was with Sam. Sam was his light. Sam loved that knowledge. He wanted to be Dean’s light in the dark, his lighthouse in the starless night.

While Sam was thinking like this, Dean fell asleep. Sam lay there, holding him, allowing himself to drown in Dean’s feelings and hoping that in sleep Dean’s guard would fall down and he would be able to see what was in Chamber Thirteen. But Dean’s guard never let him down and everything Sam got was silent happiness from the reunion.

He was just considering the idea to go to sleep himself, when his stomach grumbled loudly and Sam realized how hungry he suddenly was. He didn’t want to leave Dean, but hunger was hunger and maybe he could get something for both of them.

He slid out from the bed carefully so that he didn’t wake Dean up and pulled on his jeans. Then he inspected his T-shirt if it was possible to wear it for the little while during his search for food, but then he decided to take a clean one. After he put on his shoes, he left the room with a slight feeling of guilt, but, hey, he was going to repay his absence with food, so?

He expected to find Ellen in the bar, and she didn’t disappoint him. He asked her for something to eat and tried hard not to look away, ashamed, when she sized him up, raising an eyebrow at his new T-shirt, but said nothing. Sam endured her inspection bravely, refusing to avert his look guiltily. He was done feeling guilty for breaking some stupid rules of humans. He didn’t come up with them, he never agreed with them, so why should he live according to them? It didn’t make any sense. And as long as Dean wanted him, Sam was willing to give him his everything. Even his body. And he was NOT going to feel bad about it.

Bobby was still sitting at the bar, nursing an almost finished bottle of beer. “Where’s Dean?” he asked when Sam took a seat beside him.

“Sleeping,” Sam said simply, noticing that a shadow crossed Bobby’s face. “He was tired,” he added quickly.

“Sure he was,” Bobby said tonelessly, giving Sam’s clean T-shirt a knowing look, and this time Sam could hardly hide his blush.

He bit his lip, thinking whether he should tell Bobby about his worries, but he needed someone to talk to, to release some pressure. “He’s not okay,” he said.

“I know, kid,” Bobby said, taking a sip from the beer. Sam didn’t tell him anything new. Bobby had known that ever since Mary had died and John had separated his sons in order to protect them, not listening to the experienced ones when they had told him he was hurting them.

“He’s hiding something. I don’t know how he does that, but he doesn’t let me feel everything he feels,” Sam continued, and it hurt to hear his sad, concerned voice.

“That doesn’t require a special training or skill. Dean simply doesn’t want to feel those feelings, but they’re still there. That’s why you can’t feel them, but you know about them,” Bobby explained patiently.

Sam looked at him with wide eyes, in which the question was written, _What can I do about it?_

“You’re the only stable point in his world, Sam. As long as you’re here for him when he needs you, you’re doing your job right,” Bobby said in a fatherly tone and even managed to smile, but Sam’s face stayed serious.

“It doesn’t feel to be enough,” the boy said gravely.

“Listen, Dean always finds his way back to you and even your dad can’t stop him,” Bobby said in a tone that he hoped sounded convincing. He knew everything about Dean’s struggle. The boy was balancing on the verge of turning into a Ripper and only Sam’s presence and his undying love could prevent it from happening. Sam was there to save Dean from himself. If he failed, there was no one who could save his big brother.

Sam gave Bobby a small, shy smile and he seemed to be about to say something when Ellen interrupted him, bringing a plate loaded with sandwiches.

“Here, feed yourself and your brother,” she said, standing the plate in front of Sam.

Sam took it and with a mumbled “Thank you” he left the bar. Bobby and Ellen watched him leave with concerned looks, but for different reasons.

“You take it too well,” Ellen said when Sam was finally from their ear shot. Jo was gone, probably in her room, and Ash was too deep in his research to pay them any attention.

Bobby shrugged indifferently. “What can I do? What was once done can’t be undone. They know it, that’s why they’re not holding back. If I tried to forbid them anything, they’d find a way to do it, anyway.”

“Sam’s not legal. Dean can get into trouble for that.”

“Sam’s not a little kid anymore, he knows what he wants. Anyway, there’re not many people who actually know what they see. There are too few Warriors, even fewer Protectors and just a handful of commoners like you to see what the two of them are and how the chemistry in their Pair has altered.”

“Demons can see that, too,” Ellen pointed out.

Bobby sighed and tightened his grip on the beer bottle. “As I said, harm’s already done.”

Meanwhile Sam returned into the room. Dean was still sleeping, his arm stretched out over Sam’s empty place in the bed. Sam kicked his shoes off and drew a chair closer to the bed. He sat down, putting his legs on the mattress, and with the plate laden with sandwiches he started eating while watching his brother. Dean looked peaceful, but the little crease on his forehead didn’t escape Sam’s attention. The outstretched arm was an obvious indication Dean was looking for him in his sleep.

Sam smiled and touched the hand with his bare foot, giving it a small caress. Dean breathed out, splaying his fingers and lifted his hand, freeing it from under Sam’s foot, the heel of his palm still resting on the mattress. A huge grin spread over Sam’s face as Dean opened his eyes and his fingers curled around his younger brother’s ankle.

“Hey,” Sam said with his mouth full.

Dean didn’t reply, but Sam could feel his reproach through the touch. _Why aren’t you in bed with me and naked?_

Sam swallowed and showed Dean the plate with sandwiches. “I brought food,” he explained and smiled again. “Eat?” he offered the plate to his brother.

At first it seemed Dean was going to refuse, he wanted to as Sam could feel, but then Dean stroked Sam’s foot and sat up, leaning against the headboard. “Yeah, thanks,” he said and took the plate from Sam.

Sam beamed and slid on the bed next to Dean, pressing his leg against his brothers. They ate in silence until the plate was empty. Then Sam took it and left the bed only for the moment to put it on a small table in the room and take off his clothes. When he got back to bed, Dean finally smiled, wrapping his arm around Sam and pulling him close.

He kissed Sam’s forehead. “G’night, Sammy,” he whispered against Sam’s skin, and, snuggled up to Sam, he went back to sleep.

“Good night,” Sam said, taking Dean’s freehand in his and going to sleep as well.

Morning was lazy and nice. Sam woke up with the pleasant feeling of peace and contentment, which didn’t need to be necessarily his, of course. He could feel Dean’s body wrapped around his from behind, the contact from head to toe. Dean’s forehead was resting against the back of Sam’s head, his chest was pressed firmly to Sam’s back, his arm draped over Sam’s waist. Sam could feel Dean’s cock buried in the crack of his ass, not hard, no, but it felt as though Sam’s ass was the only place where it belonged. Dean’s legs were tangled with Sam’s, and Sam couldn’t feel happier at that moment. Dean was there, all his, body and soul, needy for Sam’s presence, and Sam wished they would stay like that forever. He pushed away every thought about Dean’s departure as soon as Ash was done with the research for their dad. He learned to live in present, for the moment, and not to think much about future which could change every day. Sam knew what he wanted, but life taught him that hanging on dreams was doing him more harm than good. It was hurting him beyond one’s imagination and Sam didn’t want to be hurt more than necessary. That was why he chose better to enjoy every freaking second with his brother, the love of his life, as much as possible and he refused to spoil it with gloomy thoughts about their next parting for only God knows how long.

He sighed softly into the pillow and ran his hand over Dean’s arm.

“Good morning, sunshine,” a cheerful voice spoke to him.

Sam looked over his shoulder at Dean grinning at him. “You’re awake,” he said and rolled on his back to have a better look at his gorgeous brother, looking into his eyes shining with joy. Sometimes Sam thought he could drown in their depth.

“I’ve always known you’re a smart kid. What gave me away?” Dean asked teasingly, smirking at his brother.

“Jerk,” Sam slapped his shoulder playfully, grinning.

“Bitch,” Dean replied immediately and kissed Sam’s shoulder.

Sam smiled lazily and turned fully to Dean. “How long have you been awake?”

“A while,” Dean said and ran his hand over Sam’s nipples.

Sam took a sharp breath, reading a clear intention in Dean’s emotions. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I didn’t want to. You need sleep, you’re still growing,” Dean said with a smirk.

Sam snorted and held his breath as Dean’s hand slid to his hip and pushed him down on the bed. Dean rose from the mattress and bent over Sam like a beast of prey. Their eyes met for a moment and Sam knew what was coming. Dean’s eyes were dark with lust and impatience.

Feeling Dean’s excitement, Sam spread his legs and waited. Dean fit between his parted thighs perfectly. His hand touched Sam’s cock and caressed it gently. Sam sighed quietly, letting himself indulge in the pleasure. His cock was hardening under Dean’s skillful hands and when it was awakened to its full size, Dean wrapped his mouth around the head and sucked. Sam had to cover his mouth in order to stifle the moan that wanted out. Dean knew how to make him feel good…

Dean swept his tongue over the slit and sucked, and Sam could feel all blood rushing into his crotch. Dean knew his game, he knew what made Sam tick. He curled his hand around Sam’s shriveled knot and squeezed a little and Sam thought he was going to jump out of his skin with pleasure.

Dean chuckled around his cock, the sound sending vibrations through Sam’s body. “Not yet,” Dean grinned and licked the underside of Sam’s dick.

Sam pressed also his other hand over his mouth. It was hard to stay quiet when Dean was trying to ignite fire in Sam’s body. Gradually, he was reaching his goal. Sam’s breathing was rapid and his heart was racing in his chest. He could feel Dean’s enthusiasm and effort to bring Sam as much pleasure as possible. One moment he was playful and teasing, but the next he was sucking hard as though he wanted to suck Sam’s soul out from his body through the cock.

Sam could feel the first droplets of his precome gathering on the head of his dick as Dean was nuzzling, licking and kissing his hard-on, slowly moving his mouth to the knot. Once he reached it, he swept his tongue over it experimentally and next thing Sam remembered was the tender graze of Dean’s teeth and suck before his body flexed as he reached climax.

“Look at this,” Dean said, amazed and amused, grinning at Sam. “I didn’t know that the knot is your ultra-strong erogenous zone. Wow.”

“You surprised me,” Sam panted, still breathing fast, blood gathering in his swiftly swelling and hardening knot. Dean’s hands were still on him, one squeezing the knot, the other stroking Sam’s cock. This time his tongue was teasing Sam’s balls and there was no way Sam could calm down. He wasn’t sure if it was possible for him to reach another orgasm being teased like this, but Dean was quite successful in keeping him still aroused and shivering, writhing with pleasure, and preventing the afterglow to wash away. Sam was flooding Dean’s hands with come and Dean was jerking him off tirelessly, while the other hand held Sam’s knot firmly, giving it only very slight pulls.

Sam was moaning into his hands clasped over his mouth and tears were rolling down his face as he wanted to beg for more of that pleasure but couldn’t ask for it, because if he raised his hands from his mouth, he would have shouted out loud, overwhelmed by all the sensations.

Dean was merciless. Even when he stopped jacking Sam off, he found the way to keep him turned on. His hands were already slick with the come still flowing down Sam’s length, but he coated his two fingers with the pearly-white release that was drying on Sam’s belly. He made Sam spread his legs wide and brushed lightly over Sam’s hole before he pushed the first finger in up to the knuckle.

Sam sighed into his hands, eyes shut tightly. Dean pushed his finger all the way inside and started moving it in and out in a lazy rhythm while he put his mouth in good use again and started blowing Sam anew, swallowing the still leaking come.

Sam sobbed, shuddering, and when Dean added the second finger and brushed over his prostate, Sam was close to blacking out. He was breaking into pieces, a wriggling pile of mess in Dean’s hands, and Dean was still pushing him further and further until Sam couldn’t take it anymore. His muscles contracted and he howled aloud, not giving a shit if anyone could hear him. His clawed hands reached for Dean, who obviously, gave a shit about being overheard as well. He stopped sucking Sam and pulled his fingers out of his dog brother’s ass. He ran the hand over Sam’s chest, palms rubbing the nipples sticking out, and bent to Sam’s face to kiss him, sweeping his tongue over the dog boy’s fangs.

“You’re beautiful. I love you,” Dean whispered against Sam’s mouth and lifted his brother’s legs, the ankles of the younger boy resting on his big brother’s shoulders. Dean pushed in, burying himself deep into Sam’s heat.

Their eyes locked, Dean’s green with Sam’s dog chocolate ones. They kept staring at each other for a while and everyone who would have seen them at that moment would have thought they were just some Kamasutra statue, but they knew better. Sam was weaving his net of love around Dean, wrapping him in it completely. Dean welcomed it, falling deep into its warmth. Sam could feel Dean’s wish, which was a need if he wanted to be precise, the need to feel he was not alone, that he belonged to someone for whom he meant worlds. Sam’s love was Dean’s life belt, holding him above the surface of all that darkness in which he had been drowning for years.

“I love you, too,” Sam said and smiled encouragingly.

Dean gave the first thrust, fast and deep; Sam tilted his head back and a sigh escaped his mouth. He dug his claws into the mattress to stay in place as Dean’s shoves in sent him higher and higher toward the headboard. Dean was still clutching Sam’s knot in his hand, squeezing it almost painfully, and Sam’s eyes rolled in his eye sockets as the pleasure rushed through his system. He didn’t care anymore if he was too loud, his moans echoed in the room together with Dean’s.

After some time, Dean eased the pace. He let go of the knot and ran his hand over Sam’s lower belly. Sam mewled and reached for his knot immediately, but Dean took his hand and pinned it to the pillow next to Sam’s head. Then he bent forward slowly until he settled on top of his younger brother. Sam’s legs slid from his shoulders, but the younger boy wrapped them around Dean’s hips, hooking them together and pushing his pelvis up against Dean’s body in search for tightness his knot demanded. He mewled again discontentedly, but Dean silenced him with a deep, sensual kiss.

Dean pulled away only a little, his lips still touching Sam’s as he started sliding in and out again in a slow rhythm. Sam was panting into his mouth, his breathing ragged.

“Do you think you can reach another orgasm?” Dean whispered, his eyes looking into Sam’s and Sam could see his own reflection in Dean’s wide irises. He moaned, wounding his arms around his brother, trying to reciprocate Dean’s movements and maybe urge him into a faster pace.

Dean sighed and kissed Sam again, engaging him into an exciting game of their tongues.

They were kissing for quite a long time; Dean kept the slow pace, driving Sam crazy. Sam wanted to beg, but Dean occupied his mouth and all he could do was give a short, excited sigh from time to time or a subdued whine. Dean was enjoying this, he could feel that, but there was a good load of self-control as well, because all Dean really wanted was to take Sam hard and fast, claim him his, show him who he belonged to. But that feeling was in conflict one strong desire. Dean wanted this moment to last as long as possible. It shut Sam up effectively and he didn’t try to reach for his big, swollen and aching knot anymore.

But even Dean couldn’t keep the low pace forever. The sparks of pleasure he ignited were turning into real fire, more demanding and all-consuming, and the orgasm slowly building in Dean’s groin was pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Despite his wish he gave a few harder thrusts, followed by Sam’s gasps for air.

“Let go, Dean,” Sam said as he used the break between two kisses. “Come on. You want it. _I_ want it. Give it to us…”

“Sammy…” Dean sighed, and he shivered as his muscles tensed.

“It’s okay,” Sam whispered. “It’s not the end. We have a deal, right?”

Dean groaned and he forgot about his restraints. It was as if Sam set him free. He was pounding into his brother feverishly, unable to control himself anymore. Not once did he avert his eyes from Sam’s face, and Sam could feel Dean’s desire to not a miss a thing. Sam was panting under his brother, wishing the same thing. This wasn’t just about sex or even being in love. This was their desperation taking over them, their fear of uncertain future. There was their deal, yes, but they could never know, could they? In their world of craziness, anything was possible: Dad may find a way to keep them apart or something unpredictable may happen. Sam didn’t want to think about it and neither did he want Dean to worry about it. They had so little time, always so little, and he didn’t want to spoil it with gloomy thoughts. He reached for his brother and kissed him hard, his tongue penetrating deep into Dean’s mouth, and his dog teeth grazed the soft skin of Dean’s lips. Sam sucked on his brother’s and lover’s lower lip and then nibbled gently. Dean sighed, running his fingers through Sam’s hair until he reached his pointed dog ears. Sam whimpered and his claws scratched Dean’s back a little.

Dean moaned and slowed down again. He was moving in a steady, unhurried rhythm, each time burying his cock deep into Sam’s ass. The angle was perfect, and Sam’s whole body was shivering with pleasure. He was gasping for air, feeling Dean’s orgasm was close.

Dean kissed Sam one last time before he rose from his body. Supporting his weight with one hand, he ran the other over Sam’s chest and down to his lower belly. He stroked Sam’s hard cock, slicking his hand with the sticky come before he grabbed the knot, holding it firmly. Sam moaned loudly, digging his claws into Dean’s skin before he realized what he was doing.

“Sorry,” he panted, but Dean shook his head, smiling, and pressed a quick kiss on Sam’s mouth.

“You’re worth every scratch,” he whispered against Sam’s lips, giving his knot a gentle squeeze.

Sam shut his eyes and groaned, unable to stop himself from leaving long scratches over Dean’s shoulders. Dean gave a long sigh and started moving again. His slow, deep pushes turned into hard, ferocious thrusts. Sam could feel it, the tingling in the tips of his toes taking on the intensity, and there was this rush in his blood, excitement, fire that was spreading from Dean’s body into his. His muscles tensed, claws dug into soft flesh and he gave a deep, throaty snarl right before he was swept by the force of their mutual orgasm multiplied by their ability to feel what the other one felt. Sam cried out in prefect unison with his lover.

Dean gave two or three more thrusts, while filling Sam with his come, until he eased out of his body. Sam didn’t even have time to grieve over the loss because the next second Dean blanketed him, giving a shit about the new spurt of Sam’s pearly-white release that stained his stomach. Sam didn’t care as well. He was already too sticky with all the drying come on his body, and his cock was pulsing and still leaking, the white liquid turned transparent without semen.

Dean kissed him, the kiss unhurried and sweet, sloppy and open-mouthed, not deep, but still exciting. Dean’s touches became gentler, cherishing, and Sam felt like the most loved person in the world.

“So you _could_ come again,” Dean said after a while, a broad smile settled on his lips.

Sam didn’t reply. Instead, he licked Dean’s cheek playfully and grinned, wagging his tail lazily.

Dean chuckled, his eyes shining bright in the light of the late morning. Sam could feel his contentment and that was good, even though there was still the terrifying darkness hidden behind it. But for now, Sam didn’t care. For now, he wanted to be happy. Dean was here, with him and smiling, pushing all his troubles away… for Sam, for the two of them.

Sam willed his claws shrink back into the ordinary human fingernails and he took Dean’s head in his hands and kissed him again. Dean grinned into the kiss, his hand touching Sam’s face as well and his thumb caressed the soft skin under Sam’s hazel eye.

“Where’re your fangs, pup?” Dean asked.

Sam only chuckled and waved his tail once more.

Dean shook his head, amused. He put his hand on Sam’s hip and rolled them on their sides. Sam shifted closer immediately; his leg hooked with Dean’s while Dean slid his arm around Sam’s waist and pressed their bodies together. Sam’s nose found a place under his lover’s ear and the boy took a deep breath of Dean’s scent, strong and rich and exciting. The most beautiful scent in the world. The scent of home.

“Good?” Dean asked, chuckling.

“Uhmm,” Sam purred, tracing the line of Dean’s jaw with his tongue. He delivered a small kiss on Dean’s chin and then licked the sweaty skin on his neck. “Hmmmm.”

Dean laughed softly, the sound making Sam’s heart pound faster with joy. He could feel the gentle vibrations travel into his body and spreading into every cell.

“How’s your knot?” Dean asked and his hand slid from Sam’s waist to caress his ass.

“Pressed firmly to you, so it’s fine,” Sam answered, smiling.

“Good.” Dean said, but he pulled his hips away from Sam’s a little bit so that he could fit his hand between their bodies and grip Sam’s knot. Sam sighed, closing his eyes and tilting his head backwards, exposing his throat to Dean, who used the chance, sucking the skin over the Adam’s apple.

“We’ll have a swimming pool here in a while, but you know what? I don’t care,” Dean said against Sam’s skin.

“Because you won’t be the one asking Ellen for new sheets,” Sam replied with a chuckle.

Dean only grinned and peppered Sam’s neck with butterfly kisses.

They didn’t talk after that. They cuddled and kissed and stroked each other’s body adoringly. Dean didn’t let go of Sam’s knot until it shrank into its original size. He wiped the wetness into Sam’s skin, making Sam laugh.

“I’m sticky!” Sam complained, but the broad smile on his lips was an unmistakable indication that he didn’t mind at all.

“That makes two of us, bro,” Dean said in the same carefree tone. “Shower?”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Now?” He snuggled to Dean, pushing him on the back while he put his head on Dean’s shoulder and wrapped his arm over his brother’s chest.

Dean laughed. “Obviously not now. And I’m in a wet spot.”

“To be honest, I’d be surprised if you were in a dry spot,” Sam mumbled into Dean’s skin. “Everything’s wet.”

“Hm… True...” Dean admitted and kissed the top of Sam’s head right between his dog ears while he reached for Sam’s tail and pulled it a little. Sam tried to free it, but Dean didn’t let go.

Sam sighed. “You’re obsessed.”

“With you, yes.”

Sam smiled, nuzzling Dean’s cheek. _So am I with you._

They fell silent again, lying there in a tight embrace.

Minutes were passing by one by one. Sam concentrated on Dean’s feelings, trying to get under the layer of momentary contentment. While wrapping Dean in his love and thus distracting him, Sam dug deeper and what he found didn’t please him. There was regret and anger, bloodlust, revenge and deep, deep loneliness. All of that forgotten for now as Dean was sinking deeper into the ocean of Sam’s devotion.

Sam shivered and pressed closer.

Dean caressed his back and sighed. “Sammy,” he addressed his brother, voice low but firm, and Sam understood he was caught in the act.

“Sorry.”

Dean kissed his forehead while moving his hand down Sam’s back toward his ass. He gave it a gentle slap. “Time to get up, pup. I sorely need a shower.”

Sam understood. He pulled away from his brother, regretting his deed and being mad at himself for his curiosity. Dean disappeared in the tiny bathroom, and he hadn’t been there more than a minute when Sam was engulfed by a strong feeling of loneliness. He got out from bed as well and hurried into the bathroom that was too small for two people in there.

Dean just wanted to get into the shower when Sam stepped in. They looked at each other. Sam was out of words suddenly, so he let his feelings talk for him; his heart was beating like crazy and his breathing was fast as he sent a silent message to his brother, _Please, don’t send me away._

Dean turned away and got into the shower cubicle. “Coming or what?” he asked when Sam didn’t move.

Sam gave a sigh of relief and joined Dean, who wound an arm around him. “Where are your doggie parts?” he asked before he turned the water on. It was cold at first and Sam shivered as it hit his warm skin.

“And get them wet? Are you kidding?” he replied and reached for soap while Dean regulated the temperature of the water until it was the right one.

There wasn’t much room in the cubicle for two people as well, but they could manage. Dean turned to Sam and took the soap from him. “Let me.”

Sam nodded and stood still while Dean started soaping his body. He concentrated on the sensation of Dean’s hands on him, every inch of his skin tingled with anticipation until his brother’s hands got there. Dean was thorough, paying extra attention to the parts stained with come. It was so easy to get aroused again when Dean’s hands slid down Sam’s belly and cleaned his lower parts. There wasn’t supposed to be anything sexual about the way Dean touched his cock now or slipped his fingers between the cheeks of Sam’s ass and, kneeling in front of his younger brother, he continued down his thighs. But Sam’s breathing still became ragged, soft sighs escaped his mouth and his heart started making somersaults. He watched Dean intently and even though Dean didn’t look at him, Sam could see a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. _Jerk._

Dean laughed, loud and carefree, a true laugh, hearty and rich, and he finally met Sam’s gaze. He soaped Sam’s feet and stood up, handing the soap bar to Sam. “Your turn.”

Sam set to work, trying hard to stay calm as he was cleaning Dean’s body, touching that gorgeous skin, feeling the hard muscles under it, running his fingers over every curve, exploring each imperfection and scar tissue. There were more scars than Sam hoped for, their number slightly increased since the last time they were together. And then, there were the hickeys from the last night and the morning. Sam smiled when he saw his marks on Dean’s skin.

“Look at yourself,” Dean told him, and they grinned at each other.

“Ellen will kill us,” Sam said cheerfully.

“At least we’ll die happy,” Dean replied with a smirk, but there was also a shade of heaviness in his undertone. To take that away, to make Dean forget again, Sam pressed his mouth to Dean’s under the spray of warm water and kissed him. Dean responded immediately, taking Sam’s face in his hands and deepening the kiss. When he pulled after some time, he smiled and Sam noticed a spark in his beautiful green eyes. “Get back to work,” Dean said, sniggering, and pushed Sam away a little.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Bossy,” he mock-complained, but then he put his hands on Dean’s belly, rubbing the dried come away.

When he moved to Dean’s most sensitive parts, it was obvious that neither was his big brother immune to Sam’s touches. Sam, kneeling in front of him, looked up at Dean with as much innocence in his eyes and thoughts as he could muster. Dean frowned and Sam burst into laughter. He finished soaping Dean’s body and stood up.

“You think you’re funny? Your innocence was gone the moment you were born,” Dean huffed, still frowning.

“I don’t deny it,” Sam said with a grin, putting the soap away and folding his arms around Dean’s neck. He felt Dean’s arms lock around him.

“You make me horny,” Dean sighed.

“The feeling is mutual,” Sam replied and locked their mouths together. Warm water was caressing their skin, rolling down their bodies in many streams and washing the soap, sweat and come away.

It took them quite a long time until they left the bathroom, wrapped in soft towels. They dried each other, still hungry for contact. Hardly anyone could understand how much every simple touch meant to them. It wasn’t only about showing their affection or, in their case, mental communication based on their feelings. It was also about them being alive, being whole, finding the missing piece of each other.

They shared a few more kisses before they proceeded to the other step to look decent and as presentable as possible. Sam dug through his T-shirts, finding a black one and handing it to his brother. Dean had already pulled on his jeans, and he took the T-shirt with a thankful smile. Sam smiled back, the flames of joy dancing in his eyes.

“I’m hungry,” Sam said with a chuckle after he pressed Dean to the wall beside the door and kissed him once again.

Dean smirked and reached for the door knob. He raised an eyebrow when Sam didn’t move.

The door opened a little.

Sam still didn’t move.

Dean rolled his eyes, pecked Sam’s lips quickly and escaped Sam’s arms when he slid out the door. He knew Sam would follow him, and, of course, he was right. Sam ran after him, itching to tangle his fingers with Dean’s, but he wasn’t sure about it since it would just make them too obvious.

Dean gave a defeated smile and his little finger found Sam’s. Sam could read his brother’s thoughts in his feelings: _Don’t be an idiot. We’re more than obvious no matter what we do or don’t do._ That calmed Sam down a little. Nevertheless, before they entered the bar, Dean let go of Sam’s hand. While Dean changed a few words with Bobby, who seemed to be waiting for them to make sure they didn’t catch anyone’s attention, Sam went to ask Ellen for something for breakfast for the two of them. Ellen promised to prepare something and sent Sam back into the back part of the house. Hunters were already filling in and she could hardly know if any of them was a Protector that could recognize Sam right away (although Sam knew none of the people in the bar was and he and Dean were the only ones, but Ellen didn’t want to hear anything about it). She told Sam she would send Jo when the food is ready, so Sam gave up and returned from where he came. Dean joined him, but his way didn’t continue into Sam’s room, but Ash’s.

“Look who’s there! Our lovebirds,” Ash said cheerfully when he opened the door for them.    

“What?” Sam blushed, but Dean only shrugged and put an arm around Sam’s shoulders. Sam could feel his strong refusal to deny or hide what was between them. Dean was tired of it and therefore he was done with pretending. It wasn’t like they could conceal it, anyway.

“Come on, Sam,” Ash said lightly, “I’m only a Fighter, just like Ellen is. We can’t see who is who like you can, and I would bet my pants you’re the first Protector we’ve ever met, but, unlike commoners, we can sense there is much more about you two than a mere Warrior/Protector relationship. And the concert you made this morning left no room for doubt.”

This time even Dean’s cheeks turned slightly pink. He coughed, embarrassed, and his arm slid from Sam’s shoulders. “Bobby said you’d finished the research…” he changed the topic.

“Yeah, I have it here,” Ash handed Dean a file with many articles cut out from daily press and notes. “Your old man is practically interested in the same thing than I, so putting it together took me a lot less time than I thought I’d need. But, according to what you told me yesterday, there’s this one thing he mightn’t have noticed. Many of the articles say something…”

Suddenly, Dean raised his hand to stop Ash, and the man fell silent.

“Sammy, go check if Jo brought the food, will you?” Dean said, and even though Sam couldn’t feel Dean’s emotions now, when they weren’t touching, he could see in his brother’s eyes that the true reason why Dean sent him away wasn’t the breakfast. Dean had a secret he didn’t want to share with Sam. It wasn’t new, but Dean had always avoided letting Sam feel it so far.

“Okay,” he said, and made sure that his disappointment was apparent in his voice.

Dean narrowed his eyes a little. _Don’t be a bitch,_ Sam could read in them. He huffed and left the room. Dean made sure the door was safely closed behind him.

Sam made a few steps away from the door, but the curiosity took over him. What was it that Dean didn’t want to tell him? He sneaked back to the door, his dog ears trying to catch every word from the inside.

“… he knows only little and I want it to stay that way for now,” he could hear Dean’s voice.

“What your old man says about it?” Ash asked.

“He wants him clueless. He says Sam’s better without knowing.”

“What do you think?”

“That ignorance can be as deadly as any well-aimed gun. I think that’s a big part of the reason why he wants him tucked away and under constant watch. Hell, I’m sure that if it was up to him, he would try to lock Sam up in some cellar just to keep him out of any possible danger. I’m sure he would be furious if he knew Bobby brought Sam here…” He fell silent. Sam could hear hurried footsteps nearing to the door. There was nowhere to hide, so Sam turned around a wanted to run away, but he hardly reached the corner when the door opened.

“Sam,” Dean’s strict, firm voice stopped him.

Sam turned to him, lowering his head and drooping his ears guiltily, looking at Dean from under his bangs.

“You think I don’t know you’re standing behind the door? I can _feel_ you, you dumbass.”

“Sorry,” Sam said, but the only think he was sorry for was the fact he was caught in the act.

“We’ll talk later. Now go.” Dean’s voice was even and matter-of-fact.

Sam frowned. “Fine. You don’t want me to know, I’m going,” he said grumpily. “I hope you’ll make Dad happy,” he added venomously.

Dean breathed in sharply and his eyes glittered with suppressed anger. “That’s enough. Go away.”

Sam’s frown darkened. “Stop treating me like a kid.”

Dean straightened up, glaring. “You’ve just proven you still are one.” After that he returned into the room, shutting the door behind himself.

“Jerk,” Sam mumbled under his breath and headed for his room. By the time he reached the door, his dog ears had been gone, which was a good thing because Jo was already waiting for him with a plate full of sandwiches and she didn’t look happy.

“Where have you been?” she asked in her usual bitchy voice.

Sam shrugged. “Stopped by in Ash’s room,” he said matter-of-factly. “Thanks for the sandwiches,” he added in a calm voice. Jo wasn’t worth a fight. No one was worth a fight except Dean. And Sam hated fighting with Dean…

He took the plate, ready to disappear in his room, but Jo didn’t seem to even think about leaving.

“What’s up?” he asked her.

“So you and Dean?” she said thoughtfully, sizing Sam up.

“Yeah, me and Dean,” he said with caution in his voice.

“He’s your brother,” Jo said meaningfully.

“He’s my Warrior,” Sam said, already anticipating where the conversation was heading and he didn’t like it at all.

“Aren’t there rules?” she asked, and Sam glowered.

“We don’t care. We didn’t set them,” he replied defensively.

“Simply, you don’t give a rat’s ass about what others think,” Jo summed it, and Sam couldn’t tell if she disapproved or exactly the opposite.

“No, we don’t. It’s our life, our decision. We’re not hurting anyone with this, so why should people care what we do?” he said, keeping his voice down.

Jo seemed to think about something until she spoke again. “He never mentioned you, you know. I had no idea that he was dating someone or that he had a brother until now.”

“Guess why,” Sam said wryly and wanted to finally go into the room, but he was reluctant to open the door and let Jo see the mess in there.

“Yeah, it was wise of him,” Jo said, obviously determined to carry on in the conversation, and Sam groaned inwardly.

“He’s wiser than he gives away,” he said impatiently.

Jo smiled. “And on top of that he looks good and I bet he’s a great hunter. No wonder you fell for him.”

This time Sam openly rolled his eyes. “You don’t get it. I would love him even if he were fat and stupid…” His voice trailed off as he realized something. He fixed his wide eyes on Jo. “You like him,” he voiced the revelation of the day.

She flinched and a pinkish shade colored her cheeks. “Maybe,” she said defiantly, holding Sam’s look. It was an obvious challenge.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Let me tell you something. I’m his Protector and he’s kind of become mine. I guess you know that means you have no chance,” he said haughtily and opened the door wide ostentatiously before he entered, letting Jo have a perfect view at the mess in the bed. The room still reeked of sex since they had forgotten to open the window.

Suddenly, his keen ears caught the sound of fast steps coming nearer and his sharp nose told him who it was. Sam knew he was doomed and he panicked. “See you later,” he said to Jo hastily, backing into the room, and he just wanted to close the door when Dean came out from behind a corner.

“Hey, Jo,” he greeted the girl, giving her his sweetest smile as he stood in the doorway, blocking the view into the room. “Thank you for bringing us the breakfast and, please, tell your mom how grateful we are for her hospitality.”

The words themselves sounded stupid, especially because Dean wouldn’t bother with such politeness normally, but this time it meant he was trying to save the situation. Apparently, Jo fell for that. She beamed, eyes shining with happiness that someone as gorgeous as Dean talked to her, smiled at her… noticed her. Sam rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have time to talk to you properly,” Dean continued. “How are you doing? How’s your summer?”

Jo was melting while Sam wanted to puke. She glanced at him. “Mostly good,” she answered Dean’s question, the smile never leaving her lips.

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I can imagine,” he said, smirking. “I need to talk to Sam now if you excuse us. I’ll see you later.”

“Later then,” Jo said and left.

Dean waited until she was gone and only then he closed the door and crossed the room. He put a file Ash must have given him on a small table next to the plate with the sandwiches that Sam had put there earlier. Then he turned to his brother, face unreadable, and leaned against the edge of the table. He folded his arms on his chest, giving Sam a serious look.

“Where does all that jealousy come from?” he asked strictly.

Sam lowered his head and bit his lip, staying stubbornly silent.

“It’s so strong it’s blinding me. What’s up?” Dean demanded.

“She’s a girl,” Sam said gravely.

Dean breathed in. “And?”

“She’s pretty,” Sam continued.

“And?”

“She’s not your blood relative…”

Dean closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, then he looked at Sam again. “And?”

“She likes you,” Sam said dejectedly.

“I know. And?” Dean’s voice sounded calm and steady, but Sam could guess his brother was annoyed.

He bit his lip and lowered his head again. “I don’t like that,” he mumbled.

Dean sighed and shook his head. “Why does it bother you at all? You know very well that I’m interested in someone completely different.”

Sam glanced at Dean, but then he looked away, ashamed. “I do.”

“C’mere,” Dean said, beckoning to his brother, his voice sounding warmer, more friendly.

Sam approached him, longing for Dean’s touch and forgiveness.

Dean grabbed Sam’s wrist and pulled him close, parting his legs so that Sam fit between them. He wound his arms around Sam’s waist and let his hands wander to the younger boy’s small ass. Dean pressed their crotches together and let his feelings flood his brother.

Sam could feel Dean’s love and he gave a sigh of relief, but there was also annoyance and a little bit of disappointment. Sam was sorry for that, he was truly sorry.

“I wonder where all that insecurity comes from,” Dean said, looking into Sam’s hazel eyes. “According to what you told her about us being each other’s Protectors, I’d assume you have no doubts about us.”

“I don’t,” Sam muttered and looked away. “I just…”

“What?”

“She reminded me the rules… and that we’re brothers… that we shouldn’t be like this…” Sam stuttered, his eyes meeting Dean’s again.

“Sammy,” Dean sighed. “Why do you even care? The thing we have, does it feel wrong?”

Sam shook his head. “It feels right.”

“So? Where’s the problem?”

“I hate being judged.”

Dean gave him a lopsided grin. “Trust me, you don’t know what ‘being judged’ means and thank God for that. I want it to stay like that. People around you may not agree with us, but they accept our relationship. You can rely on them they won’t give you a hell for that. Bobby even supports us.”

Sam smiled finally, folding his arms around Dean’s neck, but then a thought occurred to him. “Does Dad give you a hard time?”

“We don’t talk about it,” Dean brushed it from the table, but Sam knew there was more. He didn’t ask, though. It was safer.

Dean pressed their foreheads together, silent ‘I love you’s passed between them.

“As your big brother, I think I should give you a lesson about good manners,” Dean said suddenly, chuckling, but Sam could feel that in reality he was serious. He pulled away a little so that he could look at Dean and waited for what his brother had to tell him. “You can’t go around telling people they have no chance with anyone, not even me. A) Sometimes I need them to believe they have. B) You’re crushing little girls’ dreams and it’s cruel. Look, Jo’s a Warrior who hasn’t met her Protector yet. She still may, but the older she is, the lower the chances are. It’s very likely she’ll never know that type of love. It’s probably better like that, but she deserves to be loved by someone, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam said quietly, cheeks burning with shame.

Dean smiled. He moved his hands to Sam’s back and rubbed it lightly.

“She doesn’t know she’s a Warrior and you’re not telling her, okay?” Dean continued.

“Okay, but why?”

“How would you feel if you knew there should be a part of you somewhere in the world, but you may never find it?”

Sam’s breath hitched in his lungs and he pressed closer to Dean. “I’d go insane.”

Dean chuckled. “That’s why. What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her, right?”

“Right.”

“Good. And… You never know. One day she’ll meet her big love and she wouldn’t even think about her Protector possibly roaming the world.”

“That’s sad,” Sam said.

“Do you think? Warrior’s don’t always fall for their Protectors, you know,” Dean said with a smile.

“Twisted world,” Sam said, taking Dean’s face into his hands. He couldn’t imagine being not loved by him. It would have been cruel… He realized how lucky he was.

Dean’s mouth touched his in a gentle kiss. _We both are lucky,_ Sam could decode from his brother’s feelings. He wound his arms around Dean’s neck once again and sank into a loving embrace.

“Dean?” he addressed his brother after a while.

“Yes?”

“What’s going on? What is it about Protectors? No one wants to tell me anything. But you don’t agree with that, I heard you say that to Ash,” Sam asked, trying not to sound whiny.

“Sammy...” Dean reached for Sam’s arms and unfolded them. He clasped Sam’s hands in his and looked his little brother in the eyes blazing with curiosity. “There’s a reason why they don’t want to tell you.”

“There’s a reason you don’t like it,” Sam pointed out, and before Dean could say anything, he continued. “Look, Dean, I know everyone is trying to protect me, to keep me safe and alive, but I don’t even know what the danger is. I’m trained and I can exorcise a demon, I know how to kill a wendigo or how to fend a ghost, but I lack experience. Bobby tries to fix that as much as he can, and I know he does many things behind Dad’s back so that I’m not absolutely useless when I’m allowed into the world, but it’s not enough. I’m not prepared for any danger. I’m becoming a shitty Protector. I wouldn’t be able to protect you if anything happened, and it drives me crazy. I’m mad. I feel like in a cage. Even Jo has more independence than I, and I don’t even know why I’m such a secret. What is the threat? Who wants to hurt me? Dean, please, I have the right to know why my life turned out this way.”

Dean smiled sadly. “You talk too much, Sammy,” he said teasingly, his thumbs stroked Sam’s hands gently. Then he sighed, all humor leaving him. “Protectors are dying out,” he said heavily. “Someone’s killing them and new ones are not being born.” He squeezed Sam’s hands. “Do you wanna know what makes you so special that your existence became such a secret?”

Sam nodded eagerly, holding his breath.

“You are the last Protector we know about that came into this world and the first one born after a whole decade. Not only the one who’s after Protectors is your enemy, but also every Warrior who never found the missing half of their Pair. Most of them are jealous and pissed and if they knew, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill you in order to avenge the presumed injustice of the universe. That’s why you are kept under constant supervision.”

Sam lowered his head, thinking. So this was the missing piece of the puzzle. He was a single man against an army of enemies disappointed with their sad fate.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked concernedly, trying to catch Sam’s eye.

“Yeah, I am,” Sam replied, taking a deep breath. “I just didn’t know it was so serious…”

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad,” Dean said, putting his one arm around Sam’s shoulders and pulling him into a hug. He pressed a quick kiss on Sam’s temple before he spoke again. “Sammy, Dad loves you,” Dean said, and Sam winced, but Dean didn’t allow him to pull away. “He’s an impatient guy and very passionate. He’s still angry with what happened to Mom and he hates the fact we are a Pair, because he knows what it means.” He cupped Sam’s face and looked into his eyes. “He thinks keeping us separated is the best way to keep your existence a secret. Together we are obvious. And I get why he was so angry when he found out what we had done. We printed who we are and who we belong to right on our foreheads and everyone who knows our ‘language’ can read it easily. We don’t need to be around each other to be recognized. Especially your safety is endangered. Dad doesn’t want to lose you just like he lost our mom. He trains me to be able to protect you when he’s not around anymore.”

Sam crinkled his nose. “That’s not the way it’s supposed to be.”

“No, it’s not. But I’m your Protector now, so it gives me the right to do the protection part,” Dean said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Will you lock me away somewhere as well?” Sam asked, worry and defiance flowing from his system into Dean’s.

“No,” Dean said. “I want to teach you to protect yourself. I want you to gain experience.”

Sam straightened up, looking Dean square in the eye. “Does it mean our deal’s still on?” he asked solemnly.

The corners of Dean’s mouth twitched in suppressed smile, this one reflecting also in his beautiful green eyes. “Unless you want to not leave the safety of Bobby’s home, train on the yard and never know the true action, the deal’s on.”

A broad smile spread across Sam’s lips as he hugged Dean. “I want to be a competent Protector. But most of all, I want to be with you finally and not to worry anymore when you have to leave me again…”

Dean’s hands rubbed his back gently. “About the leaving…” Sam’s brother started heavily. “I think I should go. Ash was fast and granted me some extra time. I should use it wisely to get over the sickness from our parting so that I could get to Dad without causing any suspicion. It’s better if he doesn’t know we met.”

Sam pulled away, disappointment settling in his heart. He had hoped for more time, but Dean was right. It would be better if he left sooner and had time to deal with the sickness before Dad had a chance to get a wind about Sam’s holiday. Not only Dean and Sam, but also Bobby would have gotten into a trouble.

He nodded and wanted to leave Dean’s embrace, but Dean didn’t allow that, holding Sam’s hands in his again.

“I love you,” Dean said, and the sweet emotion rushed into Sam’s veins, making him concentrate on it.

“I love you, too,” he said, and Dean smiled before he pressed their mouths together one more time.

The kiss was deep and slow, loving. It was full of hope and faith in their future. The deal was still on…

Sam licked his lips when Dean pulled away finally.

“Let’s eat before I’ll really have to leave,” the older Winchester said and smiled, offering Sam the plate with the sandwiches. Sam took one and started eating.

They ate in a comfortable, however sad silence. Dean kissed Sam again before it was time to leave.

“Thanks for the T-shirt,” he said, nuzzling Sam’s cheek. “May I keep it until we meet again?”

Sam chuckled. “No. You have to take it off right now and pay for it with allowing me to map your chest with my tongue.”

Dean laughed. “Haven’t I paid enough already? I made you come TWICE this morning.”

Sam grinned. “That doesn’t count. I gave you the T-shirt AFTER sex.”

Dean chuckled and kissed Sam again. “Now?”

“Not enough,” Sam said with a smirk.

“There’s never enough, is it?” Dean said, smiling, but sadness was already seeping from his voice, settling on his face.

“No, never,” Sam agreed, snuggling close.

“Don’t cheat on me with Jo, okay, pup?” Dean said with forced cheerfulness, running his fingers through Sam’s hair.

“You know I won’t. And she likes you, anyway.”

Dean laughed into Sam’s neck, pressing a big kiss there. Then he pulled away, taking the mysterious file from the table and walked out from the room. Sam followed him, but only to the door into the bar. Dean kissed him one more time before he left Sam’s arms. Sam watched him through the gap between the door and the doorframe as Dean parted from Bobby, Ellen and Jo and proceeded to the front door to leave the bar.

Sam shut the door and pressed his back to the nearest wall. He slid down onto the floor where he curled up, arms hugging his knees, and he hid his face as hot tears started rolling down his cheeks. His heart was ripped out of his chest again and it hurt, hurt so fucking much… He wished to turn and run, run away, run from everything, run from people and this fucked-up life. Just run and never come back.

His claws dug into his pants and ears drooped, his tail was bent in an awkward angle and his fangs broke the skin on his lip as he kept chewing it, blood mixing with tears. He thought he would burst into million tiny sharp pieces and no one ever would be able to glue him together. And even though the experience told him that he would be whole again when Dean came back, it never felt like that after his departure. When Dean left, Sam’s world always crashed, burying him under the debris.

It was Ellen who found him when she wanted to bring him new sheets, even though he never got to ask her for them. Bobby watched over Sam until Ellen tidied his room and changed the sheets, and Sam would have wanted to disappear in thin air with shame if he had been able to feel anything but pain of the loss. Then Bobby helped him to bed and watched over him for the rest of the day and the whole night.

Dean didn’t have it much better. Barely did he leave the Roadhouse, he felt the starting headache that was only getting worse and worse. By the time he found a motel and checked in, he could barely see and his stomach was already protesting. Finally getting into the bathroom was a blessing. He spent the whole afternoon lying on cold tiles and got to bed only when the first stars started twinkling on the darkening sky. He didn’t take any painkillers, they wouldn’t have worked anyway. This pain was both his curse and his blessing. As long as it was there, there was also the tight bond between him and Sam. Stretched, taut and hurting, but there. And that was what counted.

Dean hoped he would be all right again until the time he would meet their Dad. John would have killed him if he had known that Dean had told Sam about the Protectors. The man so desperately wanted Sammy out of this madness, hoping that at least his younger son would have as happy life as possible that it almost ached. Dean couldn’t be mad at him for that, but he didn’t agree completely with Dad’s attitude, either. What Sam didn’t know, could kill him. That was why he had told Sam as much as he considered useful. He left out bloody details, though. Sam didn’t need to know about the dead Protectors found in pools of blood or the insane, abandoned beings robbed of their essences.

But there was one more thing he hadn’t told his brother. There was this special kind of demons, more powerful and resistant to salt, iron and holy water. Exorcism was useless against them as well and the only thing that could hold back such a demon was a Devil’s Trap. Those demons could turn into animals, and Dean knew where the ability came from. The demons used the stolen essences of Protectors and enjoyed the benefits that came with them, freaking sons of bitches… There was a lot of information about appearances of such demons throughout the country. John hoped to find the source of it and he never talked about it, but Dean anticipated that it had something to do with his and Sam’s mom’s death. John was persistent, thinking he was close to solving the case and killing the son of a bitch that killed Marry. He didn’t feel tired or sleepy and if Dean hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have bothered with rest. He could rest when he was done… Maybe even forever…

Next day, Dean got out of bed only shortly before noon to get a large cup of coffee before he set on his journey back to John. Fortunately, by the time the two of them met, Dean felt as fine as the situation allowed him. He missed Sam as much as a drowning man missed oxygen…

Sam didn’t feel much better than the first day. He almost threw his guts out and then spent the rest of the day in bed with fever. The need for Dean was suffocating, but he was stubborn enough to force his lungs to work. There was the deal, right? So he couldn’t give up and die just yet.

One more day passed until Sam finally crawled out of bed. Bobby, who watched over him the whole time, helped him to the bathroom and when he made sure Sam was able to stand on his own feet, he left him alone to take a shower and brush his teeth. After Sam got dressed, Ellen came with a sandwich and she wasn’t willing to listen to any protests that he wasn’t hungry. At least he was allowed not to eat it all at once and he could save half of the sandwich for later.

When the adults left him alone at last, he shuffled out to the back of the Roadhouse, where hardly ever anyone from guests wandered, and sat down on a bench by a wall. He leaned against the wall behind his back, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as he turned his face toward the sun. He felt sick and miserable, but at least not totally wasted anymore. It was nice to just sit and enjoy the silence disturbed only by the soft rustle of the summer breeze in the high grass.

He was already balancing on the verge of sleep and wake when his keen ears warned him that someone was coming. The slight wind brought him a faint girl’s scent and he knew he could relax.

He didn’t open his eyes when Jo sat down next to him. She didn’t talk; she just was there, her presence strangely comforting. They both were left behind by the same person who they loved. There was no rivalry between them anymore, only compassion.

Sam opened his eyes and looked at Jo. She was staring somewhere into distance, but slowly she turned to him, face serious. She put her hand over his resting loosely on the bench beside his body.

Sam breathed in. “This is a Protector’s love as well. It’s my curse…”

“And your blessing,” she said softly.

Sam smiled, Dean’s face popping up in his mind. “Yes, my blessing,” he said quietly.

Jo squeezed his hand and he let her lean against him. He knew he had a friend.  

Since then, each day was better than the previous one. Sam was slowly getting used to the loneliness in his heart anew, and even Jo was gentler and friendlier now. They managed to create a fragile bond between them forged of the mutual sorrow. They found a strange comfort in each other’s presence, and they could sit in silence for hours, doing nothing in particular, and they still never felt like they wasted a second of their time.

 


	17. The Desperate Journey

 

Summer was almost over and Sam and Bobby returned back to the salvage yard. Late at night, when Sam was asleep, Bobby told Pamela about Dean’s visit at the Harvelles. Hearing the story, Pamela decided it was time for Sam to proceed to the next level in his Protector training. The rest of the summer break Sam spent learning to sense his Warrior despite the great distance. Once he figured out the trick, he was able to tell if Dean was south, north, west or east. Surprisingly, it was his sorrow and loneliness that helped him to concentrated on the missing piece of him which was Dean. Perfecting that ability took a lot of energy, of course, but Sam never complained, never whined and worked on perfecting the ability tirelessly. Every night, when he went to sleep, he closed his eyes and let his mind wander, searching for Dean, looking for him, calling him, and when it picked the faint echo of his Warrior, Sam concentrated on detecting the direction from which it was coming. Once he managed that, he turned his face that way and whispered “Good night, Dean” into the silence. He held on that fine string until sleep claimed him and Dean’s presence slipped out of his mind.

Dean called at the beginning of October. He sounded cheerful and carefree, but Sam knew better. Nevertheless, he didn’t ask anything. He wanted to enjoy the short conversation and spoiling Dean’s mood was definitely nothing he wished to do.

Two days before Christmas Sam got another photo of the Impala into his small collection. This one was a picture of the interior focused on the green air freshener in a shape of a coniferous tree with circles drawn with a pink highlighter on it. Obviously, it was supposed to represent a Christmas tree. ‘Happy Merry Christmas, pup’ was written on the back side of the photo. Sam put it on his bedside table and propped it against the night lamp.

Dean called on Christmas, and even though he was trying to hide it, he sounded kind of upset. Maybe it was because of John, who wished Sam merry Christmas, too, and hung up, not giving the boys the time to talk some more.

It was Dean’s twentieth birthday when Sam had the chance to talk to his brother again.

“Hey, Sammy!” Dean’s voice sounded less natural than the last time.

“Hey,” Sam said softly into the receiver. He sprawled on the couch in the living room while Bobby left the room for a beer and didn’t come back. The phone calls between Sam and Dean were no more the calls between brothers, who wanted to know how the other was doing, but the calls between lovers, who missed each other.

“Do you know what day is today?” Dean continued with pretended cheerfulness.

“Let me see… Hmm… Nope, no idea,” Sam said teasingly.

“Aw, come on, Sammy, don’t be a bitch.”

Sam chuckled. “You only want me to wish you happy birthday.”

“Damn straight,” Dean said, and Sam could easily imagine him grinning. “Will you?”

“I don’t know. Should I?”

“Sammy.”

Sam laughed. “Happy birthday, big bro.” 

“Thank you, lil bro,” Dean’s voice became soft suddenly as the forced cheerfulness faded.

“How are you?” Sam asked, worry gnawing his heart again.

“You know, the old stuff,” Dean said evasively. “You tell me how you’re doing. School? Training?”

“Everything’s fine. I still go for the morning run, then school, training, homework… Nothing interesting.”

“Tell me more. Friends? Potential girlfriends?” Dean laughed humorlessly at his own joke that wasn’t funny at all.

“Well… There’s this one girl. Her name’s Samantha, we call her Sam, and she’s my best friend.”

“Your best friend is a girl and her name’s Sam?” Amusement slipped into Dean’s voice.

“That’s what I’m telling you,” Sam said, trying for a carefree tone.

Dean laughed and this time it sounded sincere. The sound reverberated through Sam’s body in a warm, pleasant wave. “Sorry, Sammy, but this is too much of a coincidence.” Dean giggled again. “How come I haven’t heard about her so far?”

“I don’t know…” Sam said, feeling surprised about that simple fact himself. “Is it important?”

“Sammy, everything about you is important. Every fucking second of your life is important. Every person you meet is important because you are important. Capishe?”

“Um… yeah…” Sam said quietly, feeling heat rising into his cheeks, and he was glad Dean couldn’t see his blush. “I’m sorry.”

“Tell me about her,” Dean ignored the clumsy apology. Obviously, it didn’t matter to him. Instead, he sounded impatient and hungry for hearing Sam’s voice as if it was the only thing that interested him right now and he was trying to find something that would have made Sam talk.

 “Okay,” Sam agreed without hesitation. He couldn’t deny Dean his wish, he could never do that. “I got to know her last year,” he started slowly. “She’s nice and she likes keeping me company. She’s a good listener and she’s very supportive. She thinks you’re my boyfriend, by the way.”

“Shall I be surprised?” Dean said, satisfaction seeping from his voice. “What more?”

So Sam talked. About the days when he missed Dean and the girl never left him alone with his grief. About the days when he was good and had fun. About the days when he was perfect, because Dean was there, and she used to tease him in her gentle way. Sam talked and he didn’t even know what he was talking about, but as long as Dean was listening, wanted to listen to Sam’s jabbering, needed to listen to him, Sam was going to continue.

“Sammy,” Dean said after some time. “I need to go.” Sam could hear regret in his brother’s tone.

“Yes. Yes, of course. I won’t hold you anymore,” he replied quickly.

“You’re not. Just…”

“It’s okay. Happy birthday, Dean.”

“Thank you, Sammy,” Dean said softly.

“Dean, stay safe!” Sam called into the receiver, but he was too late. The engaged tone sounded in his ear barely were the words out.

Days were going buy, month exchanged month until it was May and Sam turned sixteen. After he took a shower after his morning run and came down for breakfast, a new photo from Dean was waiting for him.

“It came yesterday,” Bobby said, “but I thought it’d be better to give it to you only today.”

Sam didn’t listen to him as he already inspected the photo of the interior of the Impala. The view was from the driver’s side of the car at the driver’s seat and the steering wheel; pie with one candle sticking out of it was placed in the seat, the car keys laid next to it. ‘Happy birthday, puppy,’ was written on the top of the photo with a black marker and ‘For the day you’ll have your license’ under it with an arrow pointing at the keys.

Before Sam could think about the license remark, Bobby said to him, “Your dad is paying for the driving school. Now you just have to decide when you want to start.”

“Uh…” Sam looked at the photo, the keys of the Impala tempting him. “As soon as possible, I guess…”

“You guess?”

Sam shrugged and showed Bobby the photo. The keys in the photo were a promise, and he could never know when Dean was going to show up in Bobby’s doorway. It could take months, maybe even years with their dad, until there was a chance for the two of them to meet again. It could also happen in a couple of weeks. Sam wanted to be ready.

Bobby nodded in understanding. “As soon as possible then.”

By the end of the summer break Sam was a proud driving license holder. Ready to take his brother’s baby for a ride, he was waiting for Dean’s arrival. But Dean never showed up, and Sam hadn’t even heard from him ever since the Impala Happy Birthday wish photo. Sam had a bad feeling something might be up, but John called Bobby once or twice during those months, yet the hunter never told Sam what the conversation had been about. Sam tried eavesdropping, but Bobby always made sure he wasn’t anywhere in Sam’s earshot.

During the summer, Bobby bought a computer, which made Sam ecstatic. He learned to use the things sooner than anyone in their weird household. Sam asked him tentatively if he was considering internet connection, too, but Bobby turned him down when he said there was time for such foolishness when the fees for the service dropped in a couple of years. Instead, he got Sam his first cell phone, sharing the costs with Pamela. Sam knew what Bobby’s motivation was. He wanted to be able to check on Sam whenever he wasn’t around. Or Sam could give him a call in case something came up or he got into a trouble by chance.

September came and passed, October knocked on the door and Sam was more and more worried about his brother. He still tried to attune to him when he went to sleep, he could tell which direction he would have had to take if he had wanted to follow his brother, but it didn’t give him the answer to his question what was wrong. There was no phone call, not even a new photo of the Impala waiting for him when he got back from school. It was frustrating and Sam was grumpy and broody almost the whole time. Friends barely talked to him, except Samantha who somehow managed to get out of him what troubled his mind.

“Don’t worry. If he loves you, he’ll find a way back to you. If he doesn’t…” She shrugged. “Either way, don’t worry.”

Sam smiled and thanked for the kind, well-meant words, but they had an opposite effect on him than Samantha hoped. They brought doubts, and suddenly Sam was afraid that Dean might not love him anymore and the only reason why there was no word from him so far was that he didn’t know how to tell Sam.

Sam’s worry turned into despair quickly. He couldn’t concentrate on the life around him. Days, filled with endless waiting, became true torture. School wasn’t the distraction he hoped it would be at first. School became the place where everything was falling apart under his hands: his grades got worse rapidly, his relationships with friends turned cold. He was an outsider again, a weirdo, a freak, a ghost of himself from a couple of days ago. He became oblivious to his surroundings while he was constantly trying to stay attuned to Dean’s location. He needed to feel his brother, longing for his closeness and dreading it in the same time, and if this was the only (and the safest) way to have him, he was ready to sacrifice everything to it. It was tiring, holding that connection day and night without a break, and it was so fucking hard at first, but after a few days, it became harder to just stop and finally take a deep breath. Sam didn’t need oxygen when he had Dean…

But he didn’t count with the possibility of abrupt breathlessness. It felt like icy hand squeezed his heart and all the air was sucked from his lungs. Sam gasped as complete emptiness threatened him, and then his heart started beating frantically as though it was about to burst out of his chest. Never before had he experienced such fear that was clutching his insides, a true terror peppered with the faint taste of death on his tongue.

Dean was in deadly peril…

It happened during History class. Every eye in the room fixed on him as he jumped up from his seat abruptly. “I… I don’t feel well,” he stammered the clumsy apology, then grabbed his bag and hurried from the classroom. He needed to call Bobby, to tell him what was going on, to ask him what they were going to do, what HE was supposed to do, because no way in hell was he going to sit in a class if Dean was in danger. His place was by Dean’s side, his task was to protect that precious life with his own.

So what the fuck was he still doing here?

He opened his bag hastily, rummaging through it in a frantic search for his phone. When he finally found it, he hurried to his locker while dialing Bobby’s number.

“Sam!” A girl’s voice stopped him. Startled, he turned around, disconnecting the call immediately.

“Sam,” he breathed out. “What…?”

“I was sent to check on you,” she explained. “You said you didn’t feel well…” She dropped her look as though she wanted to apologize for intruding.

“No, it’s okay,” Sam said quickly. Of all the people in the world, she was the last one who had a reason to feel guilty. “I just…” He looked at the phone in his hand. “I need to make a call.”  

She nodded, but then looked at him intently. “Are you okay? You don’t look well…” she said quietly.

“I’m fine, thanks,” he said, desperation sounding in his undertone. “Sorry, I need to…” He lifted the hand with the phone.

“Sure, go on,” she said and walked away to give him some privacy.

Sam dialed the number once again and put the phone to his ear. He listened to the never-ending ringing sound on the other side of the line. He let the phone ring at least ten times, but no one picked up. “Come on, Bobby! Pamela!” he growled under his breath. “Pick it up.” He hung up and tried calling again with the same result. “Dammit!” He cursed and threw the device into his bag angrily.

“Can I help you?” Samantha asked shyly, keeping safe distance from him.

Sam blinked, surprised to still see her there. He totally forgot about her. “Maybe… maybe you could…” he said slowly, hesitantly.

“How?” she asked eagerly. Apparently, she noticed there was something serious going on.

“Wait for me in front of the boys’ bathroom.”

“Huh?” Sam could read in her big, widened eyes the deepest confusion.

“I’d use your help, but I need you to trust me,” he said, breathless. Time was ticking away and Dean was closer to death each second that passed by. “Please.”

“Okay,” she agreed in the end and followed Sam to the bathroom.

He disappeared inside and started pulling off his clothes as fast as he could. Before he stuffed them into his school bag, he pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled something on it. He tied his sneakers to the straps of the bag with shoelaces and opened the door slightly.

“Sam?”

“Yes?” Samantha asked, peeping in, but Sam made sure he was out of her sight. He stuck out his hand with the note. “This is the combination of the lock on my locker. Put my things there, please.” He pushed the bag out of the bathroom.

“What are you doing, Sam?” she asked, suspicion sounding in her voice.

Sam sighed. “Please, just trust me, okay? I need you to put my bag in the locker and then go back to the class. Will you do that for me?”

“What about you?” She was persistent.

“I’m not coming back.”

“Sam, tell me what’s up.”

“I can’t,” he said in a low voice. “Please.”

He heard her sigh. “Fine. I just hope you’re not getting us into trouble,” she said and took the bag.

Sam peeked through the gap between the door and the doorframe. Listening to Samantha’s fading footsteps, he was waiting for his chance. In a few more seconds a German Shepherd bolted out of the bathroom.

Surely, neither Bobby nor Pamela would have appreciated the young Protector completely alone out there and vulnerable to the evil that was after him. But they had no idea about it as both of them with Bobby’s friend and fellow hunter Rufus had just buried a corpse in the backyard. Pamela was hissing angrily, totally pissed that Mr. Big Idiot had allowed Mr. Even Bigger Idiot to bring a freaking demon on his property where a teenage Protector, whose existence was top secret, lived. Fortunately, Bobby and Rufus managed to exorcise the son of a bitch after a long interrogation session in the basement. That was why neither of them had picked up the phone when it had rung. Whoever it had been, they could call later.

Obviously, Rufus hoped for a friendly chat in the house by a glass of whiskey, but Bobby send him away unceremoniously. Rufus didn’t know about Sam and it was for the best if it stayed like that, even though Bobby trusted Rufus with life. But as someone wise said once, shit happens and you can never know.

“It was the first clever thing you did today,” Pamela said dryly and disappeared in the house. Bobby followed her, not saying a word to his defense. When Pamela was like this, it was better to shut up.

“Whiskey?” he better offered.

She nodded and sat down in the kitchen, waiting for him to serve her the drink.

Barely did Bobby share the whiskey into two glasses when a German Shepherd barged in.

“Sam?”

Pamela jumped on her feet. “What the hell are you doing here!?”

Sam turned into his human form. He was panting, his eyes widened and full of fear and anxiety, the fact that he was completely naked in front of them obviously didn’t bother him at all. “Dean’s in trouble!” he cried when he caught his breath.

“What do you mean?” Bobby asked, but Pamela looked suddenly almost as scared as Sam.

“He’s dying!”

Once the words were out, Sam started shaking violently and he looked close to a nervous breakdown.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Bobby spoke to him soothingly as he came closer to the boy. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me what happened?”

Sam trained his eyes on the hunter. “Dean’s out there and he’s _dying_!” he said insistently with a stress on the last word as though he thought Bobby was dumb and couldn’t  understand the seriousness of this information.

“We need to do something,” Pamela said, turning to Bobby. Despite her effort to keep her voice even, Bobby could hear it was kind of shaky.

“What?” he asked her, ready to do whatever was needed to be done. As long as he could prevent it, neither of his boys was going to die.

“We need a map,” Pamela said and looked at Sam again. The boy was shivering all over, his chest heaving frantically with every intake of breath, his eyes wide and unfocused, pure terror reflecting in them. Pamela came up to him and put her hands on his arms to capture his attention. “Sam, you have to pull yourself together. Right now, you’re the only one who can find Dean, wherever he is. Do you understand?”

Sam was staring at her, and he looked a little calmer. He took a deep breath and nodded. “He’s south,” he said.

“Good. We’ll talk about it when Bobby fetches the map. Meanwhile go get dressed, okay? We’ll meet in the living room.” She squeezed Sam’s arms encouragingly before she let him go.

The boy ran out from the kitchen as though a Reaper was on his tail. The fact that he could do something that would lead to his brother’s rescue gave him hope. It gave Bobby chills when he thought about him running the whole way alone from school to the salvage yard. Too young, too vulnerable… He could have lost them both…

No! He couldn’t think like that! No one was going to die! Sam might be too young and too inexperienced, but Pamela did a good job in training him. If anyone could save Dean, it was definitely his little brother.

He and Pamela moved to the living room where Bobby took out a big map of US from one of the drawers of his huge desk. He spread the map over the desk and studied it for a moment. “Sam said Dean’s south,” he said thoughtfully.

“Yeah, but we don’t know how far. We have to wait for Sam,” Pamela said, studying the map as well.

In a minute or two Sam stormed in, dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, pulling a blue plaid shirt over it, and barefoot. “What am I to do?” he asked, breathless.

“At first calm down,” Pamela said, looking at him from the map. “I need you to concentrate on Dean. Take a deep breath and focus. The more precisely you locate him, the sooner we can find him.”

Sam frowned, glancing at the map. “He’s in Kansas,” he said with certainty. “The eastern part of the state.”

Pamela blinked and looked at him suspiciously. “How can you say that so easily?”

Sam shrugged. “I trained a lot.” Suddenly all his courage left him and he looked at her sheepishly. “I was lonely…”

Pamela breathed out. “That explains it,” she said tiredly and turned to the map. “What else can you tell us?”

“Not much,” Sam said. “The closer we’ll be, the surer I’ll be about his exact location.”

Pamela rolled her eyes. “I know that. You already gave us much more than I expected. I’m asking about Dean. How is he?”

Sam bit his lip, glancing at Bobby. He didn’t want to talk about that cold feeling of loss. Dean was slowly slipping away and Sam was unable to stop it. The absolute emptiness he had never heard about was filling him little by little, scaring him right to the core. Sam himself was surprised that he wasn’t cowering in a corner, paralyzed and totally unable to do anything. Maybe it was a Protectors’ nature to fight until the very end. There was enough time for apathy AFTER this was over. Sam was not going to give up until it was too late.

“He’s still alive, but he doesn’t have much time,” he said irritated.

“How much time does he have?” Pamela demanded.

“I don’t know!” Sam barked. “A couple of days? I don’t know!”

“If we hurry up we should get there just in time,” Pamela commented matter-of-factly and turned to Bobby. “We mustn’t waste any more time. We have to leave immediately.”

“I figured that much,” Bobby said, already folding the map. “Sam, pack only the unnecessary. Where’s your phone?”

“At school. In the locker.”

Bobby sighed. “Fine… We’ll stop by at school for you to take your things and then we’ll hurry to Kansas. Why didn’t you call first, anyway?”

“You didn’t pick up.”

Bobby glanced at Pamela, who pursed her lips, but neither of them said anything. “Go pack,” Bobby said in the end and both Sam and Pamela hurried out from the room. No more than fifteen minutes later they were gathered in Bobby’s old car speeding to the town for Sam’s school and then down a highway.

Sam didn’t remember much from the journey. He was still attuned to Dean, listening to the calling of the imminent death. It was leading him unerringly to his brother; the closer he was, the stronger the calling was.

“Lawrence,” he said before they even had the chance to reach the border between Nebraska and Kansas.

“Are you sure?” Bobby asked, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.

“He’s there,” Sam said resolutely, knowing he was right.

The city looked the same as Sam remembered it. There was the same rush, the same life, the same air smelling of smog and rain the day before. Surprisingly, although he spent his early childhood years here, the place didn’t feel like home. Sam wondered that if he had left Sioux Falls, the town would have felt as strange as Lawrence did right now.  

He instructed Bobby to the hospital in which Dean was supposed to be. His heart was racing like a frightened horse and he was close to panic once again. Dean was slowly letting go of his life, allowing it to slip away from his body little by little.

He was leaving Sam behind, not looking back.

“NO!” Sam cried in panic and before Bobby and Pamela even had a chance to ask about Dean at the reception desk, he ran down the corridor, up the stairs, another corridor… He was passing by people, who were glaring at him, shouting something behind him, but he didn’t hear them. He was deaf to everything, blind to everything, he only saw the way in front of him and heard the sound of blood rushing through his veins.

And then there was the greatest obstacle of all, standing in his way. Passing it by wasn’t an option. Sam stood in the sterile hospital corridor and stared at his father, who was staring back at him, bewildered.

“What are you doing here?” John asked, but then his expression turned from surprised to furious in a split second. “It’s your fault!” he spat, going right at Sam. “It’s your fault Dean’s dying! They mistook him for a Protector and he’s dying now!”

Sam shivered, coldness filled him and he was unable to move, unable to react. Staring at his father in horror, he was just standing there, holding his breath and waiting for the blow. _It’s my fault…_

“Stop it, John!” Pamela’s clear voice filled the corridor. She was standing between Sam and John, shielding the boy from the wrath of his father. “We’re here to help.”

“Help?” asked John incredulously, glancing at Sam again. “What can you possibly do? He’s in surgery right now…” He ran a hand over his desperate face. “I don’t even know what’s wrong with him. He’s just bad. Dying on that cold table.”

“What if you calmed down and told us everything from the beginning?” Everyone turned to Bobby, who just reached them.

John sighed. “All right.”

“Sit down,” Pamela suggested gently, and she still didn’t stop shielding Sam from John. The less of him John could see, the better for all of them.

John nodded tiredly and was just about to sit down into one of the chairs in the corridor when the doors of the operating hall opened and a surgeon came out. John hurried to him immediately with Pamela and Bobby at his heels. Sam stayed standing in his place. He had keen ears, he could hear what they were talking about.

“How is he?” John asked the doctor, breathless.

“We did what we could…” the surgeon said.

“Is he dead?” John interrupted him, his voice breaking.

“No, he’s not,” the doctor said, but the tone of his voice was heavy. “He’s alive, but he’s in a serious condition. The next forty-eight hours will be critical. There was a massive inner bleeding we were finally able to stop, but there can still be complications. He also suffered brain injury, but we won’t be able to say how bad it is until he wakes up from coma.”

Sam felt a scream on the tip of his tongue and he pressed his both hands to his mouth to prevent it. He didn’t need to attract attention. Whatever the doctor was saying, Sam knew Dean wasn’t much better. In fact, he wasn’t better at all. Death was still reaching for him and Sam wished nothing less than to be by his brother’s side right now. His place was there.

The doors of the operating room opened once again and Sam could finally see his brother. Lying under a white sheet so clean and shiny that its color was literally stabbing Sam in the eyes, he was nearly as pale as a dead man and unconscious.

“Where are you taking him?” John asked.

“We put him in a room where he’ll be under constant medical supervision.”

The doctor was talking to the adults a bit more, which became Sam’s chance to sneak away and follow the staff taking his brother to the room. He waited until the staff was done in Dean’s room and then slipped inside, unnoticed.

The sight almost took his courage away. The beeping of the machine monitoring Dean’s heartbeat was the scariest thing in the room, but all the tubes he could see were as bad. The needle of the IV was sticking out of Dean’s left hand and the sight at the oxygen mask over his face pushed tears into Sam’s eyes.

“Dean…” he whispered and came closer to the bed. “Dean, I’m sorry. It’s my fault. But, please, don’t leave me…”

He looked at Dean’s right hand, resting on the sheets beside his body, and he felt the urge to touch those fingers that had used to run through his hair, touch his skin, worship him… Was he about to lose that all? He needed to feel Dean, to take away his possible pain, to save him from dying. He needed to do something. Anything. He reached out…

“Stop!”

Sam startled and pulled his hand away. Pamela was standing in the doorway, looking scared, but also relieved.

“Don’t touch him,” she said and stepped in, closing the door behind her silently.

“Why?” Sam asked, big uncomprehending eyes fixed on her.

“He’s in coma, Sam. You’ll touch him and you’ll pass out. He doesn’t need you unconscious.”     

“What am I supposed to do, then?” Sam asked, wishing nothing more than curl up at Dean’s side and fall into pleasant nothingness. “I failed. This is my fault. I’m not worthy…”

“You shouldn’t believe everything your father says,” Pamela said sternly. “You’re more than worthy. Just look how easily you found him despite the great distance. I’ve never seen anyone that good, and even in such a young age. It takes years, Sam, to master such a level of the ability. You ARE a worthy Protector. Dean can be happy he has you.”

“But…” Sam started to protest, tears welling out of his eyes.

“Shut up,” Pamela said and came closer to him. She put her hands on his shoulders. “You proved yourself, Sam, and I have hope in you. You should, too,” she said in a serious tone. “You’re very capable. If anyone can save Dean, it’s you.” She let go of him and looked at Dean, her face unreadable.

Sam wiped the tears from his cheeks quickly. “You say there’s a way?”

“Yeah. It won’t be easy, but yes, there’s a way.”

“What shall I do?” Sam said eagerly, hopeful eyes fixed on Pamela.

She turned to him, her face even more serious than a while ago. “You have to push Dean out of your mind. You have to stop feeling him.”

Sam blinked, puzzled. “What? Why?”

“You need the channel clean. You’re going to reverse the flow of emotions.”

“Huh? Is that possible?”

Pamela nodded curtly. “It’s tough, but you can do it.”

“How can my emotions help him?” Sam asked, looking at Dean’s pale, lifeless face.

“He’ll know you’re here and that you want him alive. You can awake his fighting spirit. I doubt he wants to leave you alone here,” Pamela said gently, but Sam could hear the strong conviction in her undertone. “And there’s one more thing…” she added.

“What?”

“Not many Protectors can do that, but I believe you’re one of them. You can heal him.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. “Heal?”

“Yes, heal,” Pamela repeated. “You can not only push your emotions into him, but also your life force. But don’t forget that it’s something you must be extremely careful about. It’ll make you weak. If you overdo it, instead of saving him you may kill yourself.”

Sam looked at that ash-gray face. Dean looked so fragile, so vulnerable, and Sam wanted nothing else than save him, to have his brother back, safe and sound.

He turned to Pamela with hope in his eyes. “Please, teach me,” he begged.

She didn’t have time to reply, because John and Bobby walked in. John’s eyes met Sam’s, but the boy looked away quickly. He couldn’t stand his father’s judging stare, it made him feel guilty on every possible level, guilty for his love getting Dean to the doorstep of Death.

“Can you save him?” John asked, voice low.

Sam glanced at him, but stayed quite.

Pamela answered instead of him. “He can. But he needs to learn it first,” she said, a trace of accusation in her tone.

“Sam?” John ignored Pamela, his whole attention on his younger son. “Can you?”

“I’ll do everything I can,” Sam said quietly, a promise more to himself than anyone else. He would do everything what was in his power to get Dean out of this mess. He was responsible for him that was why he had to fix him, no fail allowed.

“Thanks,” John said and sat down on the side of Dean’s bed, looking at him. “We were on the tail of the son of a bitch that killed your mom, Sammy.” John didn’t look at Sam as he spoke, but his voice was as soft as Sam hadn’t heard ever since he was a little kid. “We were attacked by a bunch of demons. They mistook Dean for a Protector and tried to steal his essence. I couldn’t get to him in time, and when they finally realized there was no Protector essence inside him, it was already late.” He took a deep breath, turning to Sam, who was watching him, at last. “That’s why I was angry when I found out what you did. Still am. You exposed yourselves, Sammy. You put both of you in danger. I can’t lose you. Neither of you. So if you can do anything to save Dean’s life, do it.”

“I’ll do it,” Sam said, his voice cold. “But not for you.”

He was done with his father. He was done with him for a long time, but this was the last drop. John never mattered. He was an annoying obstacle. Sam swore that up from this day, he was never going to leave Dean’s side. If Dean went for a hunt after he got out of hospital, Sam was going with him.

He endured John’s look, expecting to see anger in Dad’s eyes, but instead of it, there was something else. Defeat?

“Okay. Fine,” John said tiredly. “I get it. Just save him.”

Sam stepped closer to the bed. He looked at the motionless body in front of him, itching to take the limp hand and twine their fingers together. He turned to Pamela. “What am I supposed to do?” he asked.

Pamela smiled and came up to him. “At first you need to learn to block him completely. You mustn’t allow the flow in your direction. You should know the trick by now.”

Sam took a deep breath. Yeah, he knew the trick. But it was never like this before. Before it didn’t matter if he managed to block Dean or not, because what he felt was love that could never hurt him. But now there was so much in stake! Everything depended on his ability to learn, learn fast, Dean’s life was literally in his hands.

Sam swallowed and raised his hand. He let it sink just an inch above Dean’s. He took a deep breath, preparing his mind and body to the impact he had to fend off.

“Concentrate,” Pamela spoke gently.

“Come on, John, we leave them alone,” Bobby’s quite voice sounded.

“No, I stay,” John replied, the well-known stubbornness coloring his tone.  

“John, let them work in peace,” Sam heard Bobby say resolutely. To be honest, he didn’t care if the two men where in the room or not as long as they didn’t try to disturb him.

“Stay if you want,” he said coolly, not even raising his look from Dean’s face to them, “but don’t mix in.”

Complete silence fell, giving him time to concentrate fully on his task. He took a deep breath and put his hand over Dean’s.

He gasped as he felt the violent flow. He visualized a thick brick wall to stop the wild river, and he was pretty successful. He didn’t pass out. He was the boss.

He smiled, satisfied with himself, but a crack appeared in the wall suddenly and the leaks were making Sam drowsy. He almost found himself on the floor, if there wasn’t Pamela holding him and breaking the contact with his brother immediately.

The sleepiness was gone as quickly as it came.

“You okay?” Pamela asked, studying Sam’s face.

Sam rubbed his eyes with his hand before he nodded.

“Wanna try again?”

“Yes.”

His next try didn’t go better. Sam cursed himself for not having practiced the ability harder when he had still had time. Now he needed to master it as fast as possible.

He needed a new strategy. If he couldn’t stop the flow, maybe he could push it back. He remembered that his love for Dean had helped him to tune out Dean’s emotions, how he had been able to distinguish them from his own. Maybe that was the trick…

He took Dean’s hand again and pushed against the flow, his love strong, but streaming through the jets of Dean’s sleep. Sam collapsed on the floor, unconscious. 

He came around in the hospital corridor, lying on a bench with his head resting on Pamela’s thigh. He sat up quickly as if something stung him. John and Bobby were standing on the opposite side of the corridor, leaning against the wall and talking quietly. When they noticed Sam was up, they both turned to him with worried faces.

“Easy,” Pamela said gently and put her hand on his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Sam said, wiping tiredness from his eyes. “How long was I out?”

“Two hours.”

“Damn.”

“It’s not so bad. No one expected you to do it on your first time.”

Sam didn’t quite believe that. He glanced at his father. “I can’t afford to pass out every time I try it,” he said in a defeated tone.

“No, you can’t,” Pamela agreed and removed a few stray strands of hair from Sam’s face, the gesture new to Sam. “We’ll talk about it later,” she said in a motherly tone Sam had never heard her speak before. “You’re tired, you need rest. We’ll check in a motel, get a proper sleep, and we’ll return here tomorrow…”

“No,” Sam said resolutely.

“Sam,” Pamela addressed him in a low, but firm voice. “You need rest.”

“I can rest here. I’m not leaving Dean’s side _ever again._ ” His eyes met John’s, resolution mixed with rebellion sparkled in them.

But there was no fight in John. He only sighed, looking at least ten years older than he was. “I’ll talk to the staff to let you stay here. You have your phone. I’ll give you my number and if something happens, you’ll call me ASAP. Understood?”

Bewildered, Sam was staring at his father, unable to say anything. He only nodded, absolutely dumbstruck. 

John walked away to talk to Dean’s doctor.

“I’ll bring you the phone from the car,” Bobby said before he left as well.

Sam sighed and ran a hand over his face. He thought he would go insane if he wouldn’t see Dean soon…

“You really should rest, Sam,” Pamela talked to him.

“I’ve just spent two hours out. I don’t wanna rest,” he said stubbornly, but didn’t dare to look at Pamela. What if he saw something he didn’t want to see? “I just want to go back to Dean.”

He could hear her heavy sigh. “I know.”

“I failed him,” Sam whispered in a hoarse voice, holding back tears. “I wasn’t there when he needed me…”

“It was not your fault, Sam. Stop saying nonsense,” Pamela said strictly and stood up as well. She came up to the boy, reaching out to his face and lifting his head so that she could look into his eyes, but he stubbornly avoided the eye contact. “He’ll be okay. You’ll learn to heal him and you lovebirds will run into the sunset again.”

“Huh?” Sam finally met her gaze.

“You’ll save him, but at first you need to get your strength back.”

“I’m not leaving him,” Sam frowned, pulling away. “My place is here.”

“You’re right of course…” she said in a defeated tone and shook her head as if she tried to chase away an unpleasant thought. “I’ll stay with you.”

“I don’t need you,” he protested.

“Stop bitching and accept it,” she said strictly. “You want to stay by Dean’s side and I’m not leaving you here alone with him. This is not Sioux Falls, Sam, we don’t know where the enemy might be.”

“Okay, okay,” Sam waved his hand carelessly. “As long as it means Dad won’t be here…” he muttered.

“No, he won’t. He and Bobby will go to check the situation, maybe do some demon hunting…” She shrugged.

Sam winced. His first thought was of Dean and his safety. _You’re a Protector, dammit, you won’t allow anyone to hurt him more than he is!_ he scolded himself immediately.

“Okay,” he said determinedly. No one was going to touch Dean without getting through Sam first.

Pamela shook her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She looked proud.

Sam didn’t dwell long on that thought, because John was back with the chief nurse. She told Sam he was allowed to stay with Dean during the night, but he was strictly forbidden to mess up with the machines. Sam rolled his eyes. As if he wanted to kill his brother! He knew that the machines were keeping him alive, fuckdammit… Adults could be such idiots sometimes. That he was a teenager didn’t mean he was a total dickhead.

He was brought a chair into Dean’s room. When the doctor checked on Dean’s condition, Sam was finally allowed inside. No one tried to make him company, which he welcomed. He wanted to be alone with his brother.

He drew the chair closer to the bed and sat down. He longed for a physical contact, but he didn’t dare to touch Dean’s hand. He didn’t want to be unconscious if a demon came for him by chance. Dad and Bobby were out there, checking for a possible threat, but they were just two and a cunning demon could get to Sam and Dean very easily. Sam was prepared to fight, for himself and for his brother.

He felt his claws digging into his palms and his fangs grow inside his mouth. _Calm down. There’s no demon here yet…_ He breathed out and looked at Dean, at his motionless body, he listened to the beeping of the machine monitoring Dean’s heartbeat. It was slow and steady. Dean was okay for now, but the doctor had said that the first forty-eight hours were critical.

“Don’t you dare to leave me, you hear me?” he whispered close to Dean’s ear, careful not to touch him. “I won’t allow anyone to separate us ever again and you try not to die, okay? It’ll be our new deal, do you agree?”

He pulled away, looking at that chalk-white face again. “I miss you, Dean,” he said quietly, and the urge to touch Dean’s hand, to let him feel all that loneliness, disappointment and fear of loss. He didn’t know if Dean could still feel him in his current condition, but he highly doubted that.

“Oh, fuck it!” he said and grabbed Dean’s hand, holding it firmly in his. Everything he felt, each negative emotion was pushed through the channel right into that unconscious body. “I miss you, you idiot! How can you do this to me? How can you be dying?”

He was angry and he wanted Dean to feel it. All the years of parting and waiting fell on him heavily, crushing him, tearing apart, and he wanted Dean to feel all that pain multiplied throughout the years.

“You’re not going anywhere, I’m not letting you!” he snarled, and that was when he realized he was still holding Dean’s hand without blacking out.

Maybe his surprise distracted him too much, because the moment the thought crossed his mind, he felt the well-known drowsiness. He pulled his hand away quickly and collapsed in his chair heavily. He felt drained.

“You won’t make it easy for me, will you?” he muttered sleepily.

When Pamela came to check on him later, she found him curled up in his chair sound asleep.

 


	18. The True Power of a Protector

 

The sun was already rising behind the window when he was woken up by a strange cold feeling. The machines were still beeping and everything looked absolutely all right, but there was something terrible hanging in the air. His foggy mind realized there were too long pauses between beeps and the coldness was spreading through him like an avalanche, making breathing hard. He knew what it was.

“NO!” he cried and threw himself to the bed, grabbing Dean’s hand. He almost couldn’t feel him. There was so little of him, scaring Sam beyond the border of possibility. “No, Dean, stay!” he shouted in a panicked voice and pushed his consciousness through the bond. “Stay…” he forced out as he fought the faintness trying to overcome him. He couldn’t afford to pass out now. He had to hang on as long as it took to save his brother.

He heard someone came in and ran out again. There was racket in the corridor. Sam didn’t pay attention to it, trying to hold to the last bits of Dean still present in that cold body with all his willpower.

He knew when Dean breathed for the last time before his heart stopped. “No, no, no! Stay with me! Dean! DEAN!!!”

Tears were rolling down his cheeks and he could hardly see.

“Breathe… Please, breathe… For me, Dean, please…”

It was wearing him out, but Sam held like a pit bull, his fangs out, jaw set, his claws digging into Dean’s hand. “Breathe, goddammit!”

He fisted his free hand and hit hard Dean’s chest in the place where his heart was stubbornly still in his ribcage.

“Live! Don’t die, jerk!”

Suddenly the room was full of people in white. Somebody tried to pull him away, but Sam didn’t want to let go. He growled menacingly, showing his fangs.

“What the hell!?” he heard.

“He’s a Protector!” the reply came.

“Quickly, while he’s still holding him!”

“Okay, we’re ready! Somebody take him away!”

“Sam!” Pamela’s voice sounded in his ear, strong and commanding. “You can let go! Let go now!”

“No…” he said with effort. “Dean…”

“You did great. Now it’s their job to save him. You can’t do more. Let go, Sam. It’s okay.”

“No…”

Strong hands were pulling him away.

“No…”

Dean disappeared behind the wall of people in white, trying to bring him back to life. He heard them shouting, but didn’t understand the words. The world started losing its sharpness.

“No… Dean…”

He struggled against the hands.

And then, as suddenly as it stopped, Dean’s heart started beating again.

“We got him!”

Sam breathed out a sigh of relief and fell into darkness.

John scooped his younger son into his arms and carried out of the room. Sam was like a ragdoll as if every bit of energy was drained out of him. But what scared him more was the look into Pamela’s pale face. If she looked like that, it meant nothing good.

Cautiously, he put Sam on a bench too short for him. “Will he be okay?” he asked Pamela.

“He’s exhausted,” she said in a hoarse voice, but added nothing more.

John crouched next to the bench, looking at his son. He ran a hand through his hair and down his face. He couldn’t lose him. Neither of his sons deserved to bring such a big sacrifice. He was their father. He was supposed to protect them no matter the cost…

“Mr. Morgan,” the doctor’s voice sounded from behind his back.

“Yes?” He stood up, facing the man. Pamela and Bobby were close to hear what the doctor was going to say.

“The resuscitation was successful. We managed to stabilize your son for now, but his condition is still critical,” the doctor informed him.

“I understand.”

“I must admit,” the doctor went on, “that without his brother’s intervention there was a big chance of losing him. We were fast, but your younger son bought us a couple of precious seconds. Don’t take me wrong, we did what was in our power, but time was pressing and we could fail horribly. I came to ask how he is.”

Both men looked at Sam lying on the bench, motionless. His dog parts were gone now. His breathing was shallow and droplets of cold sweat were glistening on his forehead.

“He needs rest,” John said matter-of-factly.

“I see,” the doctor said and bent to Sam to check his pulse. “I’ll order the nurses to bring a spare bed into the room. When he’s there I’ll have a better look at him.”

John straightened up, trying to look intimidating. “Why?” he asked.

The doctor smiled with understanding. “I’m not trying to hurt your sons, sir. I’m trying to help them to recover. I’m just a commoner as you would call me. I’ve never seen a Protector before. I thought they died out long ago. I understand that if there’s such a treasure, it must be protected, so I get your concern. You can stay and watch our every move, I won’t stop you as long as you are not in the way.”

John ran a hand over his face, frustrated. Life taught him to trust no one, but he needed this guy. “Bring the bed,” he said in the end and watched the hospital staff to obey the doctor’s orders. In a while, Sam was lying on the bed in Dean’s room and the doctor checked his blood pressure, pulse and the irises. Sam didn’t react to the check up at all, but the doctor said he just needed some rest and he would wake up eventually.

It was afternoon when Sam finally opened his eyes. John had been sitting by his side the whole time, listening to the beeping of the machine monitoring Dean’s heartbeat. Bobby and Pamela were waiting outside, giving John and his unconscious sons privacy. They were silent witnesses of the family tragedy, always close in case anyone from the Winchester clan needed them.

Sam woke up with a start. He almost fell down from the bed as his body jerked, his hands stretched out in Dean’s direction. “Dean!” His shout was full of desperation, panic and need breaking John’s heart.

“He’s okay. He’s alive,” he told to his youngest as he prevented him from falling on the hard hospital floor. “You saved him.”

Sam stopped fighting against the firm arms holding him. He looked at his father, puzzled, as he sank on his bed. His eyes were big with surprise, his lower lip trembling as he asked, “Saved?”

A small smile curled John’s lips. “Yes, Sammy, you did a great job.”

It hurt seeing the hazel eyes looking at him suspiciously, but then Sam turned his attention to his brother and his expression softened. For the first time in his life John got a proper look at the depth of a Protector’s feelings. The love he could see in Sam’s eyes, his face, his very stance was something he had hardly ever seen before. He had a glimpse into the secret thirteenth chamber into which only Dean was allowed. John knew he should be scared of what he saw: hope, stubbornness, willpower, and willingness to give the last breath for Dean – everything that could either get Sam killed or help him to survive. Right now he was sure it was killing him, slowly but effectively.

“I need to see him,” Sam said suddenly and wanted to stand up, but John stopped him again and pushed him back on the bed.

“Wait. The doc will have a look at you before you get up. Just to make sure you’re all right,” John said.

“I’m fine,” Sam growled defensively.

“Sammy, you won’t help Dean if you exhaust yourself to death. Be sensible,” John tried to reason with his son.

Sam glared and set his jaw, but when he gave a curt nod, John breathed out with relief.

“Thank you.”

“I won’t touch Dean,” Sam said coldly, “but I’ll sit there in the chair by him.”

“Fine, as you wish,” John said with a sigh, letting Sam do as he wanted.

Sam curled up in the chair with his knees pressed to his chest, arms wound around them. His chin was resting on the knees, eyes trained on his brother. He sat like that, perfectly motionless, paying no attention to the world around. When the doctor came to check his condition, he was perfectly obedient, but he wasn’t really there. In his thoughts he was far away from this place, maybe trying to find out where Dean’s spirit was dwelling right now.

“Any feeling of tiredness?” the doctor asked, but he had to repeat the question twice until Sam reacted.

“No,” the boy said, and he was very well aware he was lying. If he wanted to be completely truthful, he didn’t feel tired physically, but mentally he was drained. Still, he couldn’t afford to rest. He wouldn’t even have been able to as long as Dean was like this.

“Good,” the doctor said and finally left him alone. Sam curled up in the chair again, itching to take Dean’s hand and find out how his brother was truly doing. He wasn’t dying at the moment, that one he could say, but otherwise he had no clue in which part of his unconscious mind Dean was hiding from him. Sam had his brother with him, but he felt as lonely as though Dean was miles away. The thought made him nauseous.

The doctor left the room and Dad followed him. They were talking in hushed voices and obviously decided it was better to talk outside. This was Sam’s chance! He drew the chair closer to Dean’s bed and took his hand hesitantly. He already knew what he could expect and was prepared.  

He didn’t give in to the faintness to grab him. He pushed against it with all his will. He was not going to black out unless he found out what was going on in that unresponsive mind.

It felt like going against a strong stream; slipping just once would mean another big fail. Sam wasn’t having that. He struggled, pushed further and further… until the stream weakened to the level he could swim in it easily without being affected by it. He guessed he got deep, under the Sleeping Beauty layer, right into the core.

Or maybe not…

When he wanted to get deeper, he found out he couldn’t. Bars prevented him from proceeding without any chance to go up or down, to the left or to the right, wherever Sam looked, there were the bars. He heard a soft clinking of metal and as he looked through the bars he saw Dean all naked with his wrists in chains reaching somewhere far, far into distance.

Dean didn’t see him. His back was turned to Sam, so even though he was looking around as if wondering where he was, he didn’t notice his brother’s presence.

 _Dean?_ Sam addressed him softly and he realized he didn’t need to open his mouth.

Dean turned around, the soft clanking of the chains reached Sam’s ears. He smiled, his smile as dazzling as ever. _Sammy!_

 _Dean! I almost lost you…_ Sam breathed a sigh of relief. He gripped the bars, watching his brother look at the metallic bracelets decorating his wrists and the chains pooled by his feet and leading into that scary distance. He looked confused, unable to grip what was happening to him.

 _I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,_ he said finally, an innocent smile curling his lips as he looked at Sam again, lifting his hands and showing Sam the chains.

 _And that’s the problem,_ Sam thought, but obviously Dean could hear that, giving his little brother a puzzled look. _Come to me?_ Sam offered, reaching through the bars toward Dean. Suddenly, it felt vitally important to have a contact, to touch…

Dean’s smile got broader. He stepped forward, stretching his hand out toward Sam, but as he wanted to take Sam’s hand, the chains simply didn’t let him further. Whatever he did, he couldn’t reach Sam.

Desperation flew over Dean’s face. _Sammy!_

 _There must be a way, Sam, dammit, think!_ Sam told himself as he realized there was no chance to reach Dean. He was a prisoner in his own body.

 _Sammy. Why can’t I go with you? Why do I have these? Why are there the bars? Where are we? Where am I? What is this place?_ Questions started pouring from Dean like a waterfall, each of them more panicked than the previous one. _Sammy, am I dead?_ was the last of them, asked so silently that Sam almost missed it, but it was the more powerful, sending chill right into Sam’s bones.

 _No!_ he denied it resolutely. _You’re not and you’re not even going to die! Not on my watch at least. And I’m not leaving you, understood?_

Dean looked behind his back where the chains disappeared in nothingness. When he looked at Sam, again, he nodded. _What are we going to do?_

Sam stared. _I have no clue,_ he admitted.

Instead of a snarky remark, Dean’s expression turned from innocently happy to see Sam to genuinely sad. _I missed you…_

It was so silent again and still, the words resonated through Sam, causing him almost physical pain. _I’m so sorry. I failed you…_

 _No!_ Dean shook his head vigorously. _You didn’t. You’re here and I’m not dead._ He smiled again.

_But you’re losing, Dean. I almost lost you today. You almost died._

_Oh…_ Dean looked at the nothingness behind him again. _I got lost, but then heard you calling me and I found my way back here. But the chains…_ He looked at them again. _They don’t let me any further._

_That’s because you’re in coma._

Dean’s eyebrows shot up in pure surprise. _Coma? That actually explains a lot…_

Sam clutched the bars tighter. _I hate these,_ he growled.

 _No more than I,_ Dean gave him a lopsided smile.

_Dean?_

_Hm?_

_Do me a favor. Don’t die until I figure out how to save you, will you?_

Dean gave Sam a long look as though considering something. _I’ll do my best,_ he promised in the end.

Sam nodded. _Do it._

 _Sammy, you do me a favor as well._ Dean’s tone was suddenly serious. _Be careful._

 _I will._ Sam looked around. There was nothingness everywhere, only he, Dean, his chains, and the bars separating them seemed to be the only solid things in this place. _Oh, and one more thing as well…_

Dean gazed at him curiously.

_Love. I love you, Dean. Don’t forget that._

A wide smile spread across Dean’s lips. _I’ve always known you are a smart kid. I think I won’t die. Not without a fight._

Sam grinned back. _I’ll hold you to that._

_Look!_

The nothingness around retreated a little and the bars became thinner. Dean’s chains looked longer and less restricting.

Sam didn’t think twice. He stretched out his arm toward Dean again, trying to pull two bars apart so that he could push through the gap (but even though the bitches were thin, they were as solid as a rock, no passing allowed). Dean reached out as well for Sam’s hand. Just an inch. Half-inch…

Their fingers brushed, sending sparks up Sam’s spine. Dean must have felt the same, because his eyes were wide. For an inexplicable reason there was fear in them. And faltering resolution.

_Dean!_

Dean seemed to shake it off as he pulled the chains, reaching for Sam once again.

Their fingers hooked.

The next thing Sam remembered was their combined scream of insanely strong pain.

Sam opened his eyes. His father’s arms were wrapped round him and he looked as scared as Sam had never seen him before, face pale, eyes dark. Sam was trembling in his firm grip, breath ragged, cold sweat rolling down his temples.

“What the fuck was that?” John asked, not choosing his words.

Sam winced, pulling away from him. He sat upright in his chair, looking around the room. There was the doctor, two nurses, Pamela and Bobby, all of them looking equally concerned. “What happened?” he asked, his voice unnaturally hoarse.

“That’s what we’d love to know,” John said, his voice strict.

Sam couldn’t bear his look. In fact, he couldn’t bear the accusing looks of anyone. “I did nothing wrong,” he said to his defense.

“The hell you weren’t!” John exploded, grabbing Sam’s arms. “You wanna tell us that the terrible scream of yours was just fun?”

“Ow, let go,” Sam whined, trying to free himself, but John wasn’t having that.

“John, you’re hurting him.” It was Bobby’s voice, as calm as ever, but there was a recognizable trace of his own… Anger? Disappointment? Fear?

“I just want to know what happened,” John snapped, still holding Sam.

“We all do. That’s why I suggest you to calm down.” There was a hand on John’s shoulder, pleading but also warning.

The grip loosened. Sam rubbed his arms as he still could feel his father’s fingers digging into his skin. He glanced at him from under his bangs, feeling nothing, no love, no hatred, just cold indifference.

“What happened, Sam?” Bobby asked him gently, and he was standing between Sam and his fuming father now. It gave Sam the feeling of safety and encouraged him.

He shrugged, not knowing where to start. He glanced at Pamela. “I thought I figured how to touch him without being swept by the sleepiness.”

“Sam, you were cold for good fifteen minutes and it was impossible to wake you up. Also you were clutching Dean’s hand as though it was your lifeline and if we tried to pull you away, there was the danger you would hurt Dean. So we waited…” Pamela said.

“Everything seemed to be all right, your pulse, Dean’s pulse, the regularity of your heartbeats,” the doctor stepped into the conversation. “But then your breathing quickened and your pulse rose. So did Dean’s. It became insane and we couldn’t wait any longer. Shortly before we tried to pull you away once again, you screamed as though in pain and loosened your grip. That was our chance.”

Sam looked at the screen above Dean’s bed. The heartbeat wasn’t too quick or too slow, the beeping was the proof. There was a nurse checking his blood pressure, but she looked satisfied with it as well. Sam looked questioningly at the doctor.

“We gave him sedatives right after you let go,” the doctor explained. “Now let us check your condition.”

“I’m all right,” Sam said, but he could feel his heart still beating fast. He held out his hand for the nurse to check his pressure as well.

“It’s a little bit higher, but nothing critical,” said she after a while.

The doctor nodded and checked Sam’s pupils. “Don’t you feel tired?”

It was the question that made Sam realized that he felt absolutely worn out. “A bit,” he admitted, glancing at Bobby and Pamela again. Pamela’s lips were pressed into a thin line, she looked furious. Bobby was calm, but Sam could see he was worried. _What have I done?_ Sam asked himself, but then thought of Dean and the guilt was gone right away.

“Will you tell us what you were doing?” the doctor asked, his tone strictly professional.

“I talked to Dean,” Sam said matter-of-factly.

There was deep silence in the room, only the annoying beeping was heard. Everyone was staring at Sam as though he came from another planet.

“What did you do?” Pamela asked him slowly.

Sam rolled his eyes and yawned as he was unable to stop himself before it happened. His eyelids felt so fucking heavy suddenly.

“I talked to Dean,” he repeated. “He didn’t even know what was going on…”

There was another pair of hands gripping his arms and shaking with him violently. “Don’t you ever do that again!” Pamela hissed at him, almost as furious as when he had slept with Dean for the first time and ruined their identity. “A Warrior’s mind is a private zone, you never enter it! How the hell you managed to do it without any experience, anyway?”

“Hey, hey!” The rescue came from the side he didn’t expect it to come. John was pulling Pamela away from him, trying to calm her down. “The two of them broke the rules so many times that one more doesn’t matter, does it?”

“How can you even say that!?” she fumed.

“This is a special situation and as Dean’s father I’m giving Sam special permission.”

She glared at John at first, then at Sam. “You’ll burn in Hell for this,” she hissed again and left the room. Sam was sure she was going to slam the door, but she had enough decency in her to close it quietly.

“We leave you as well,” the doctor said, and the nurses one by one followed Pamela’s example. “You, Sam, better rest,” he said to the boy, motioning to the empty bed. Sam nodded, glancing at the bed longingly. He felt tired…

The doctor left, leaving Sam alone with John and Bobby. Sam hoped for John to leave as well, but the hunter didn’t get Sam’s conspicuously heavy eyelids.

“What else did you find out?” John asked eagerly.

Sam groaned innerly. _Just fuck off…_ “Nothing,” he said aloud. “He was confused. That’s all.”

“But he surely said…”

“He said nothing more, Dad,” Sam said impatiently, running a hand over his face. “I’m tired. Can we talk later?”

“Sure,” John capitulated and moved to the door.

“Have a good rest, son,” Bobby said and was about to follow John out, when Sam addressed him in a pleading tone.

“Bobby, can you stay, please?”

Bobby hesitated in the doorway. “What’s up, kid?”

“Why is what I’ve done so terrible?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the hunter who was more like a father to him than Dad. “Why is Pamela so mad?”

Bobby figured that this was for a longer discussion. “Lie down and we talk,” he said and closed the door of the room.

Sam climbed on his bed, but he stayed sitting, his long legs folded under him. Bobby could see trust in those eyes watching him intently and he so desperately wanted to give the right answer.

He drew the chair to Sam’s bed and sat down heavily. “What do you wanna know?”

Sam glanced at his brother before he looked at Bobby. “What do I do wrong?”

“Why do you think you’re doing something wrong?” Bobby asked cautiously.

“It seems like I overstepped some ridiculous rule again without knowing it.”

“That’s because you act before you think. Sometimes try to think before you act. What did you expect to achieve?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know… Nothing, I guess. I just…” He glanced at Bobby and maybe expected the hunter to say something, but Bobby stayed quite, waiting for Sam to express himself. Sam swallowed, lowered his head and only then he spoke, “I wanted to be close…”

Bobby sighed. He could guess what Sam was going through. “You’re here. Isn’t it enough?” he asked softly.

Sam shook his head unhappily.

“You’re still closer to him than anyone can ever be,” Bobby tried to reason in order to cheer Sam up a little.

“No, I’m not,” Sam said. “Not anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

Sam slumped on the bed, gazing at the ceiling. “I…” he started, but then he breathed out, closing his eyes as though he needed time to think about his next words. “You know… I… I can feel his presence, that’s right, but…” He bit his lip, glancing at Bobby.

“But?”

“I can’t feel his emotions anymore,” Sam whispered, looking away. It seemed that the sole idea of losing that contact with his Warrior scared the shit out of him, scared him even more when he pronounced it. He inhaled sharply and continued in a stronger voice. “They are locked away with his consciousness where I can’t reach him. He’s here, but he’s not with me…” he trailed off. When Bobby didn’t say anything, he continued. “I didn’t want to go so deep, I swear.” He looked at Bobby with wet eyes, but he didn’t cry. Not yet at least.

“I know,” Bobby said, and it was apparently the right thing to say.

Sam released the breath he was holding, thankfulness clearly visible in his expression. “My only intention was not to pass out again,” he said in a low voice. “I wanted to withstand the drowsiness, but it meant never to stop and push further and further until I found Dean. Honest to God, I didn’t expect that.” He fell silent again.  

“I believe you.”

Sam gave Bobby a weak smile before he spoke again. “He didn’t even know what’s going on. He didn’t know he’s in coma…”

“And you told him?”

“I did,” Sam admitted.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have done that, son,” Bobby said, keeping his voice low and gentle.

Sam’s eyes widened. “Why not?”

“Do you remember why you screamed like someone tried to skin you alive when you finally came around?”

Sam blinked. “Eh?”

Bobby raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“Pain,” Sam said at last. “I felt pain.”

Bobby nodded. “That’s right. You were in pain. A lot of pain. It came from Dean, right? You took it from him.”

Sam bit his lip, looking away. “Maybe… I don’t remember doing it consciously.”

“When do you do it consciously?” Bobby asked, half-teasing.

Sam grimaced. “Right…”

“Sam, your brother’s body is seriously damaged. It’ll take a lot of time to heal, a lot of energy, and a lot and lot of pain. The coma prevents him from feeling it. You manage to wake him up somehow, you doom him to suffering. He’ll need to be sedated then, put into sleep again so that he doesn’t feel a thing. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Sam nodded, horrorstruck. “I didn’t know that,” he whispered. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“There’s no doubt about it,” Bobby said earnestly. “That’s why you should have waited for Pamela to instruct you. Don’t take me wrong, no one’s blaming you.”

“Pamela does,” Sam objected.

“No, she doesn’t. She’s just the type of a Protector who lives up to the rules. For her, it’s the right way to be a good one. Respectable. Successful. She overstepped the rules just once and it got her Warrior killed, even though it was his choice. She left him when he needed her, because he wanted her to save someone else. He put her into a precarious situation when she could choose only from two options, do as he told her or go against his will and face his wrath afterwards. She was afraid he could cut her off if she didn’t listen to him. But that way she broke a rule from the unwritten code and it cost her Warrior his life.”

Sam was staring at Bobby with horror and deep sorrow in his eyes. “No…” he whispered.

“Yes.”

“It’s cruel.”

“It is.”

“Jesus…”

“Now you understand why she’s always pissed when you do something against the rules, deliberately or not. But I’ll tell you something. You and Dean go pretty much your own way, but what works for you two, doesn’t necessarily need to work for others and vice versa. You two are a special case. Look at it like this: Even your birth into the same family was against the rules, so I believe you were predestined to break whatever rule you could,” Bobby said and smiled.

Sam smiled back, but ended up yawning. “Sorry,” he said and rubbed his eyes.

Bobby patted his shoulder. “Have some rest.”

Sam didn’t need to be told twice.

He slept the whole night long and when he woke up in the morning, he felt as fresh as it was possible. The machines were doing their work; the beeping was steady and Dean’s breathing regular. His condition was neither better nor worse.

Pamela found him sitting by his side. Since it was obvious he would never leave the room, she brought him breakfast. Despite Sam’s unwillingness she persuaded him to eat, using Dean as a motivator. “You need energy to be able to do anything for him, not talking about the healing. So shut up and eat.”

Only when she made sure Sam was well-fed, they proceeded to the first lesson. John was standing in the corner of the room, leaning against a white, sterile wall, trying not to disturb. Sam didn’t pay him any attention. As for him, John wasn’t worth it.

“I don’t know how you did it, but you managed to touch your brother and not to pass out. Well done,” Pamela started. “We would train it longer, but time is pressing. The longer Dean stays in coma, the more severe the damage can be… or the doctor says so.”

Sam only nodded mutely. He was going to save his brother. He didn’t know how yet, but he was. And he wouldn’t stop unless Dean was either okay or dead.

“Now, Sam, listen to me closely,” she continued. “You need to remember it’s his body you’re going to work with. A Warrior’s mind is a restricted area, you mustn’t go there. Do you understand?”

Sam bit his lip. “Why?” he asked.

“Because you might influence him, his thinking, understanding of the world… in other words, it’s the most easy and most effective way to manipulate the person. It’s not allowed. It’s a good reason enough to be cut off.”

Sam stared and shivered. “Okay,” he said in the end.

Pamela sighed. “Look, it may sound like your opinion doesn’t count. It does. Very much. But you can try to influence your Warrior from the outside, not the inside where he’s most vulnerable. You can’t do that.”

“I get it.”

“Fine,” she gave him a weak smile. “So… You concentrate on the body. Try to find damages, to locate them. That should be enough for the beginning.”

Sam, settled in his chair by Dean’s bed, nodded again. “I’ll do my best,” he promised.

“I know you will,” she said gently.

He looked at her searchingly. “Have you ever done it? Do you know how to heal?”

She chuckled softly. “I know a little about it, but your method can be slightly different. Everything’s about concentration and your will to do it. But I think you lack neither the former nor the latter. You can do that.”

“Do you think?” he asked, his confidence wavering. This was a big thing; it wasn’t just a scratch needed to be healed. This was saving the precious life.

“I’m convinced,” she said firmly, and Sam believed her. He didn’t know that Pamela was just giving him a pep-talk, trying to boost his confidence (and maybe hers as well), because she knew that Sam would have to go to his limits and she was afraid. It was so easy to overdo it and instead of saving Dean, Sam could kill himself in the process. “Just be careful, okay? If you feel tired, stop immediately. We’ll continue when you rest. Don’t do any healing at the beginning, only test the area. Find the damages. When you locate each of them, you can try to heal the light ones – scratches, bruises, shallow cuts. Only when you’re confident enough to heal those, you can proceed to severer ones.”

“I understand,” Sam said, ready to take Dean’s hand.

“You won’t be able to do it all in one go, so don’t even try,” she warned him.

“Okay, I get it,” he said impatiently.

“I mean it, Sam. You don’t want to put yourself and so Dean in danger.”

Sam sighed. “I _know_. Don’t worry, Pamela.”

“Get ready,” she said, totally ignoring his last remark.

Sam shook his head and took Dean’s hand, his eyes meeting Pamela’s for a split of a second before he closed them tightly, his mind pushing against the flow of weariness, swimming in it, forcing his way into the safe area. It was an exhausting struggle and Sam tried hard to ignore his longing to speak with Dean again and explore the damage his brother’s body suffered, but it was tough and he had nothing to hang on. He was in danger that he would fall into the sleeping river.

 _Dean!_ he called in panic, knowing it was exactly the thing he was _not_ supposed to do. But he needed help.

 _Here!_ the answer came almost immediately, and suddenly there was a rope Sam could hold on, thick and strong, and it was leading him to Dean unerringly.

 _Hey,_ Dean greeted him with a broad grin when Sam reached the bars, the chains still holding him away from his little brother. _Long time no see._ He laughed, the sound rich and carefree, and Sam couldn’t stop his own smile.

 _You have sent me the rope?_ he asked his older brother, who was holding the rope, looking for its end. He couldn’t see it, because it was nowhere… and everywhere in the same time.

 _Can you see anyone else here?_ Dean asked sarcastically, but he didn’t stop grinning.

 _According to Pamela, I shouldn’t be here. Your mind is your private zone… or something like that,_ Sam informed his brother, coming up to the bars.

Dean rolled his eyes. _You’ve already been deeper than this._ The smile that followed was both mischievous and brilliant and a little bit flirtatious too.

Sam could feel warm stream of longing brushing his immaterial body and he smiled shyly.

 _What do you think the rope is made of?_ Dean asked then, grinning smugly.

 _Huh?_ Sam looked at the rope, then at Dean, who was waiting for his answer, and back at the rope.

 _Come on. You know it,_ Dean encouraged him.

Sam gripped the rope in his hands. It was soft like silk and still strong and secure. He understood. It was a lifeline. It could be only weaved of something as powerful as…

_Love. It’s your love._

Dean beamed, shining like a sun. _I knew that going to school wasn’t so pointless in your case._

Sam smiled back, proud of himself that he found the answer so fast. _But why?_ He asked curiously.

_You called and so I figured you needed some help._

_Thank you._

_Don’t mention it,_ Dean shrugged it off, pulling the rope a little, a loud _I LOVE YOU_ sounding all around. _I’m glad you came. I’m going crazy here,_ Dean continued, not giving Sam time to react. He knew what Sam’s response would have been, anyway, Sam managed to weave it into the rope and thus strengthen it even more.

 _Yeah… They say the brain might be damaged. They just don’t know how bad it is,_ Sam kept his tone matter-of-fact, but the corners of his mouth were twitching with suppressed laughter.

Dean raised an eyebrow. _What a smartass. Must run in the family._ He grinned.

 _You bet,_ Sam chuckled.

 _So why are you here if not chat with me and save me from boredom?_ Dean asked at last.

_I’m supposed to test the ground and find out how bad you are before I’ll try to heal you._

_Do you know finally how to do it?_ Sam could hear badly hidden eagerness in his brother’s tone.

 _Nope, still no clue,_ Sam answered truthfully. _I think I’ll go on instinct._

 _Oh… Okay…_ Dean didn’t sound disappointed. Just curious.

 _I guess it’s time to do some job here finally._ Sam gave Dean an encouraging smile.

 _Yeah, maybe,_ Dean admitted. _What do you need me to do?_

Sam smiled and held the rope tighter. _Secure me._

Dean smiled back. _I got you._

Sam made a step back, looking over his shoulder, clutching the rope. Then he looked at Dean again, now dead serious. _Maybe I’ll need some guiding in case I lose my way._

 _I’ll help as much as I can,_ Dean promised, and Sam retreated into the safe distance from his brother’s trapped consciousness and concentrated on his body instead as he clung to the rope woven of Dean’s love. He could feel his very being filling the unconscious shell of his brother, he brushed against every cell and every fiber, he rushed through veins with blood and found the damages, some of them still looking life threatening. Doctors did what they could, but it was just a tape, holding Dean together as long as his body finally started healing.

But there was something more threatening than injuries. Sam found starting infection and it was just a matter of time when it erupted fully.

_Do you feel all right?_

_Yeah, why?_

_It’s probably nothing,_ Sam lied, but he was already working on the problem.

_Sam? What did you find?_

He knew he couldn’t fool Dean, but he could avoid answering. Sam invaded the very center of the infection, only when he realized it wasn’t so smart. _Fuck this shit!_ he cursed and concentrated on Dean’s immunity system. It seemed like Dean’s body knew perfectly well what needed to be done and how, knew exactly how to fight against the shit like this. It only needed the supplement of energy, a powerful source of life force – Sam.

Sam felt his grip on the rope loosening little by little. The more energy Dean’s immunity required, the more tired Sam felt. But he didn’t want to give up, not yet. There was so much that needed to be healed so that Dean’s life wasn’t in danger anymore.

The infection was giving in and in a while there was no trace of it. Sam turned his attention another way. Dean’s lungs were torn in many places and it was a miracle that he was still alive. Obviously, it wasn’t Dean breathing. It was the machine he was connected to that did the job for him.

Sam called for the healing forces and the torn tissue started mending.

_Sammy, that’s enough._

Sam ignored the voice. His work wasn’t done yet. _A little bit more…_

_No, Sammy. Stop it._

Sam pressed harder, trying to hurry the healing process. He didn’t realize that the rope was sliding out of his grip.

_Sam! Cut it out!_

_Just a little… I’ll finish this._

_Sam, stop it RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!_

Sam winced. The rope in his weary hands flexed, pulling him away from the battle Dean’s body was so close to win. The lungs were almost healed, but there was still a lot of work to do.

 _I’m not done yet,_ he protested weakly, clutching the rope.

 _Yes, you are,_ sounded authoritatively.

Sam didn’t argue. His excitement was fading away slowly, making place for exhaustion. Sam wondered what would have happened if he let go of the rope…

_Don’t you even dare to consider that!_

He reached the bars; Dean got him there safely. When their eyes met, Sam could see fury in his brother’s eyes.

 _You stupid idiot,_ Dean growled. _Do you want to kill yourself?_

 _Sorry, I got carried away,_ Sam tried to apologize.

Dean glared, but didn’t reply. He shook his head. _You’re such a moron,_ he sighed in the end. _I don’t wanna see you back here unless you have a proper rest, understood?_

Sam really wasn’t in a shape to argue.

_Bye, Sammy._

_See you soon._

_Better not…_

The last thing Sam remembered before he fell into his father’s arms like a cut tree was the starting pinkish shade in Dean’s cheeks.

When he woke up, he was confused and nauseous. His head was spinning and his vision was blurred for a moment. He tried to sit up, but a pair of hands pushed him back on the mattress.

“Easy, son,” a kind voice spoke to him and it took Sam several heartbeats until he realized it was Bobby.  

“Dean?” he asked, and looked the direction from where he felt him. His brother wasn’t on a brink of death anymore, but he wasn’t all right either.

“He’s fine,” Bobby assured him. “Better than two days ago.”

Sam squinted at him from under his heavy eyelids, his face puckered in disbelief. “Two days?”

“Yup. That’s exactly how long you slept.”

 _“Two days???”_ Sam squeaked, incredulity and panic sounding in his voice.

“Don’t be so surprised,” Bobby said matter-of-factly. “You practically called it upon you. You were totally out of it. That’s why the IV.”

“Huh?” Only now Sam realized there was a needle sticking out of his left arm.

“Your heartbeat was very slow and blood pressure too low. You were absolutely unresponsive,” Bobby continued, and his eyes met Sam’s. “You almost killed yourself, son,” he said softly, but before Sam could react, John stepped into the room. A relieved smile brightened his face as he saw Sam awake.

“Sam! Thank God! How do you feel?”

Sam ran a hand over his face tiredly. “I’m fine,” he lied. “How’s Dean?”

“Better. Much better. Thanks to you.”

John didn’t notice the irritated face Bobby pulled, but Sam could see it clearly.

“You healed the most crucial injury. Now he has a good chance to survive.”

John was ecstatic and Sam couldn’t but smile. If Dean was going to live, then he obviously had done a good thing.

“Good job, Sammy. I’m proud of you.”

That was the moment when Bobby just turned around and left the room. According to tension in his shoulders Sam could judge that he strongly disagreed with John. But Sam couldn’t care less at the moment. He made Dad proud. After everything they had done and said to each other during those years, Dad was proud of Sam.

Sam smiled, but he wasn’t able to keep his eyes open anymore. “I’ll heal him, Dad. He’ll be all right… As soon as I wake up…” he mumbled.

“Sleep, son,” he heard before he dozed off again.

When he woke up again, he felt much fresher and also the IV was gone. Sam sat up and looked at Dean. His brother wasn’t wearing the oxygen mask anymore and there was finally some color in his cheeks, however, the machine monitoring his heartbeat was still present and beeping.

Sam crossed the room to stand by Dean’s side, a smile brightening his face. He bent forward and pressed a small kiss on Dean’s cheekbone quickly enough to avoid the drowsiness.

“You’ll be fine again,” he whispered into the silence. “I’ll do everything I can, I promise.” He sat down on the bed, watching Dean’s face, and sighed heavily. “I miss you, Dean.”

As expected, there was no reaction. The machine was beeping in the same steady rhythm and the body on the bed stayed perfectly motionless. Sam longed to cuddle up to his brother, to feel the body under his hands and drown in Dean’s immense love, Sam’s lifeline.

The door of the room opened quietly and Bobby slid in with a plastic food container filled with something smelling good. Sam’s mouth watered as he sniffed the air, hypnotizing the container in Bobby’s hands.

“You’re awake, good,” the hunter said. “I figured you’d be hungry and wouldn’t want to leave the room, so I brought you something to eat.”

“I’m starving!” Sam said excitedly, and jumped from the bed, but his legs gave up and he would have toppled on the floor if Bobby hadn’t stopped his fall.

“Slowly.” Bobby shook his head as Sam found his balance. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just my head’s spinning a little…” Sam said, rubbing his eyes.

“Sit down.”

Sam occupied the only chair in the room. Bobby handed him the container and a plastic fork. Sam took it thankfully and opened; French fries and pieces of roast chicken where disappearing in a record time.

“Where’s Dad?” Sam asked as he was chewing a big, juicy piece.

Bobby shrugged, his expression unreadable. “No clue.”

Sam hesitated. “And Pamela?” he asked slowly. “I wanted to tell her that I figured it out. The healing. I know how to do it now.”

Bobby crossed his arms on his chest, suddenly looking grave. “I don’t know where she is, either. She had a big fight with your father the day of your first healing session and left. I haven’t seen her ever since.”

Sam stopped eating, wide, confused eyes fixed on Bobby. “What was the fight about?”

“About the same thing I argued with John today,” the hunter said in a low, but firm tone. “Look, Sam, I know my opinion doesn’t matter and I’m happy that Dean’s better, I truly am. But this time your life comes first and your dad can be proud of you as much as he wants, but I’m not. Pamela warned you and you still did things your own way…”

“But you said…” Sam started, feeling hurt.

“I know what I said. But I sure as hell didn’t mean risking your own life. You stopped breathing for a moment, Sam. You could’ve _died_. Do you understand?”

Sam wanted to protest that he didn’t die, but he still remembered clearly how he had been losing his grip on the rope and felt exhausted, how Dean had stopped him before Sam had had a chance to finish his work on his lungs. He remembered how his brother had been angry…

“I’m his Protector, I’m supposed…” he started weakly, but Bobby cut him off mid-sentence.

“I don’t care! Your life is as valuable as Dean’s. Do you think your brother would want that?”

Sam swallowed, staring at Bobby, speechless, guilt slowly crawling under his skin.

“He’s your Protector as well, Sam. If you don’t think of yourself, think at least of him what it’ll do to him when he finds out you died, trying to save his life while you lost your own absolutely pointlessly.”

“It wasn’t pointless, Bobby,” Sam said quietly. “There was a spreading infection in his lungs and they were in a desolate state even without it. He would’ve died and it would’ve been my fault…”

The hunter set his jaw as he frowned at Sam, but didn’t comment. “You Winchesters are friggin’ stubborn,” he growled in the end, and Sam knew the conversation was over.

He finished his meal and went back to bed.

 


	19. Healing

 

He woke up at the dawn, his tiredness finally under control. It still took him some time until he crawled out of bed and moved into his chair by Dean’s side. He missed his brother. The motionless body on the hospital bed and the threat of brain damage when Dean finally woke up (because Sam didn’t want to admit he might not) brought terror of a possible failure into Sam’s heart. He was more frightened of failing to heal his brother than dying during the process.

He tangled his fingers with Dean’s, already prepared for the attack of sleepiness, and he pushed against it with all his love.

 _What the hell are you doing here?_ Dean’ growl reverberated through his soul.

Sam neared the bars shyly. _I was lonely._

 _It’s friggin’ early, Sam, go to sleep,_ Dean’s grumpiness didn’t cease.

_Not tired._

_Don’t be a bitch._

_Am not. It’s been more than two days. I’m fine._

_Huh?_ It seemed the information surprised Dean. _So long already?_

_Yeah…_

_Hm, must’ve been out of it myself… You wore me out._ This time the annoyance disappeared from Dean’s tone as it was replaced by pensiveness.

 _Sorry, I didn’t know._ Maybe it really was a bad idea to push himself to the very limits…

Dean shrugged. _That’s all right, I didn’t know myself._ He sighed and gave Sam a penetrating look as though he wanted to see right into the bottom of his heart. Sam thought how ridiculous it was since Dean was the one who could see it clearly.

The corners of Dean’s mouth twitched in a suppressed smile, but then he turned serious again.

_Listen, Sammy. It’s not so easy to keep an eye on you. You’re the one who should be responsible. I can’t… I can’t pull you back every time you decide to ignore the warning signals. It’s hard to reach so deep within myself, but I’ll do it if your life’s threatened…_

They looked at each other, Dean’s eyes pleading.

_I can’t lose you, Sammy. I can’t… I… If you don’t know the line, better stop and let me heal by myself…_

Sam shook his head vigorously at Dean’s plea. _No! That’s something_ I _can’t do._ He came up to the bars and curled his hands around them. Dean neared them as well as much as the chains allowed him. _We’ll do this together,_ Sam decided in the end and smiled broadly at Dean. 

Dean gave him a lopsided grin. _Bitch._

_Do you need the rope?_

_If you want me to have some job done…_ Sam grinned.

Dean snorted and the rope brushed Sam’s hands. He grabbed it and without hesitation he let his consciousness wander to the injured parts of Dean’s body.

He finished the work on Dean’s lungs and moved to the spleen. It wasn’t in as bad shape as the liver. Sam did what he could but when the tiredness started taking over him, he retreated back to Dean’s prison.

 _Next time,_ he promised.

 _Next time,_ Dean acknowledged, and the tidal wave of his love swept Sam back into his own body.

Sam took a deep breath before he opened his eyes, the body under his head felt nice and the familiar scent made him want to stay like this as long as he could, but he was afraid that if he fell asleep like this, he wouldn’t be able to wake up unless Dean did, so he pulled his hand out of his brother’s and lifted himself from the motionless body. That was the moment when he realized he wasn’t alone in the room.

He startled and sat upright, looking around the room, angry with himself. He blamed the strong smell of disinfection for dulling his sense of smell to the point it failed to warn him about the presence of other people in the room.

Bobby was there, looking grave and pissed, and Sam had a bad feeling that the reason why he wasn’t saying anything was because he didn’t want to make a scene in front of Dean’s doctor.

“How do you feel?” the doctor asked, coming up to Sam to examine him. He looked into his eyes and then checked the responsiveness of the pupils with a flashlight.

Sam blinked and growled, turning his head away. “I’m fine,” he forced through his teeth, suppressing the urge to show the doctor his fangs.

“Sure you are,” the doctor replied absent-mindedly as he grabbed Sam’s wrist, checking his pulse. Sam only sighed, glancing at Bobby pleadingly to tell the white-coat to leave him alone finally, but the hunter shook his head slightly and stayed stubbornly silent.

“Roll up your sleeve,” the doctor said.

“What?”

“I’m going to check your blood pressure.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but obeyed. He endured the act patiently, but when the doctor wanted him to take off his shirt so that he could check his lungs, he protested loudly. “I’m _fine._ ”

“Sam,” Bobby’s firm voice prevented him from baring his teeth and growl warningly at the doctor. “Cut it out.”

Sam huffed. He unbuttoned his shirt and slid it down from his shoulders carelessly.

“You don’t need to take off the undershirt, just roll it up.”

Sam kept glaring at the doctor and Bobby in turns during the whole checkup. He hated strange people touching him and he couldn’t say he appreciated much the touches of family and friends as well. Of course, it felt good sometimes to be hugged or patted on the shoulder or just to lean on someone close to him like Bobby or Pamela, but the only person with the privilege to touch Sam whenever and wherever he wanted was Dean. Dean’s touches were always highly appreciated.

When the doctor was done with Sam, evidently satisfied with the result, he asked Sam and Bobby to leave the room for the time he and nurses would do the same with Dean.

“What? No, I’m not leaving here,” Sam refused resolutely.

“Sam, let them work,” Bobby tried to bring him to his senses.

“No, my place is here,” Sam repeated stubbornly.

“It won’t be long,” the doctor said.

“Why can’t I be here?” Sam asked, desperation in his voice. “I won’t be in the way, I promise.”

The doctor sighed. “All right. You’ll sit on your bed and won’t move from there, okay?”

Sam nodded eagerly and smiled gratefully. He climbed on his bed and watched what was going on in the room while Bobby waited outside.

The doctor checked the machines and scribbled something into Dean’s card, then he ordered the nurses to check Dean’s blood pressure and temperature and then take a blood sample for a test for possible infections and inflammations. Sam already knew there were none. He could inform the doctor about it, but he was sure the doctor would send the blood sample to the lab anyway, so he kept silent and let the team do their job while fighting his tiredness. He knew he needed rest, and maybe even to eat something proper if he wanted to continue to heal his brother.  

“Sam,” the doctor’s voice woke him back to alert, “Dean’s life functions are slowly getting to normal… Or quickly, thanks to you. He’s out of mortal danger.”

“I know,” Sam said, suppressing a yawn.

The doctor nodded. Sam rolled his eyes inwardly. Obviously no one here fully understood what being a Protector meant. He was the missing piece of Dean. The moment Sam’s brother had been out of the danger of dying, Sam had felt it. But it didn’t mean that his condition couldn’t change from relatively good to very bad any minute. It all depended on the ability of the damaged organs to keep going, even with the help of the machines, until they were healed.

“What have you managed to heal so far?” the doctor asked.

Sam glanced at Dean, thinking how much work there still was on his body.

“The lungs, spleen and liver. But the liver still needs some more healing,” he said, itching to sit by Dean’s side and finish the job despite the tiredness.

“Thank you. We’ll take Dean now for a few examinations…”

“Okay,” Sam said tiredly and was about to climb off the bed when the doctor stopped him.

“This time you wait here.”

Sam blinked. “But I…”

“Please.”

“Why?”

The doctor sighed. “I know you’re doing what your nature tells you to do. But you’re tired and need rest and we can’t keep an eye on you while Dean is our primary concern. Besides, you wouldn’t be allowed into the room while we do the examinations, you’d have to wait outside. It’s better if you wait here. I promise you’ll be the first one to know the results. Can we agree on that?”

Sam nodded his head in defeat. “I’ll wait here,” he said quietly and lay down on his bed.

He watched the hospital stuff to take Dean away and he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until they brought him back.

“You okay, kiddo?” Bobby asked him as he sat down in the chair beside Sam’s bed.

Sam shook his head mutely, staring at the ceiling. “I will be,” he muttered after a while when Bobby took a deep breath and was obviously about to say something, “when he’s back.”

“Don’t worry, Dean’s in good hands,” Bobby said softly and squeezed Sam’s hands folded over the boy’s stomach.

Sam looked at the hunter who took care of him practically his whole life and felt deep gratitude toward him. He was glad that Bobby was there, that Sam could lean on him whenever he needed. The only person that never left. Pamela was pissed and gone and Dad… Sam didn’t even care where he was. Maybe hunting down the demons that hurt Dean so much or getting drunk in a bar, it didn’t matter to Sam at all.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on Dean’s location. He could feel him one floor above, and he clung to that feeling until Dean was brought back. Bobby stayed with him the whole time. They were quite. They didn’t need to talk to know how much this meant to them. Sam needed Bobby, his support, and Bobby needed Sam to know he was not going to leave him alone in this mess.

Feeling safe in Bobby’s presence and knowing that the hunter would wake him up when Dean was back and the doctor wanted to talk to him, he allowed himself to doze off and regain some of his strength while still attuned to Dean’s location in the hospital.

He was woken up by whispering voices, one belonged to Bobby, the other to Dad.

“Even when they bring him back, Sam won’t be able to continue. He needs rest and proper food. Bring him something nutritious if you want to be useful.”

“The sooner he heals Dean, the sooner this’ll be over.”

“You can’t press on him that much. You’ll kill him. Everything has its time. He did a helluva job so far, anyway. Even that’s enough.”

“No, that’s not enough.”

“At least give him _time._ And feed him.”

There was a heavy sigh. “I’m gonna get some food…”

“Good. And don’t worry. Your boys will be all right. They’re tough.”

“I know…”

Sam could hear the sound of the door open and then close again. A heavy sigh reached his ears and he finally decided to open his eyes and sat up.

“You should sleep while you can. The examinations are still not over,” Bobby said, coming up to Sam’s bed when he noticed the boy was up.

“I know. It takes long.”

“Not so much. It hasn’t even been two hours.”

Sam sighed and lowered his head. “What did Dad want?”

Bobby breathed out. “Generally, your dad wants everything right now and he’s not willing to accept that this’ll take a lot of time.”

“I can relate…” Sam said, crinkling his nose at the idea that he actually might have agreed with his father in something.

“Listen, Sam,” Bobby started softly, “you know best how far you can go and how fast you are able to do the things. Pamela and I told you already that you won’t help Dean if you’re dead. That’s why _your_ safety is the priority here, not Dean’s well-being, as cruel as it may sound. I’m sorry, son, but it is true.”

Sam nodded; he understood what Bobby was trying to tell him.

“Do as you feel is the best for you,” Bobby added, and when Sam glanced at him, he smiled. Sam didn’t even know how he managed to smile back, because he really didn’t feel like smiling at all.

He stretched on the bed again and sleep was already trying to claim him when he heard John come back. The smell of chicken soup awoke all his senses and he realized how damn hungry he was.

Sam had to admit this was the best meal Dad had ever brought him. The soup felt refreshing and the roast beef as the second dish helped him to restore his energy.

He was just halfway through his meal when Pamela returned. John was pissed again, and it was Bobby who had to mix between them to prevent harsh words.

“We all are here with one goal,” he said, giving a pointed look to the two glaring stubborn idiots. Sam meanwhile finished his meal, wanting to be ready when Dean was brought back.  

Pamela and John were so engrossed in frowning at each other and Bobby in trying to talk some sense into them (unsuccessfully) that none of them noticed when Sam disappeared from his chair out of the room. The mental bond to locate his Warrior he maintained told him that Dean was being brought back, and since the adults obviously indulged in being ridiculous, he moved to the staff elevator and waited in front of its door.

He held the breath when the door opened and an orderly pushed out the bed with his brother. The doctor wasn’t with them. Sam followed the orderly, trying not to be in the way, still as close as he was allowed. Even John and Pamela stopped their glaring competition and wanted to follow the orderly inside the room, but they were stopped and so was Sam. He whined quietly and stayed standing in front of the door, waiting until he was let inside.

A nurse came, patted his shoulder encouragingly and smiled before she entered the room, leaving Sam standing outside.

And finally the doctor came. Sam fixed his big, pleading eyes on him and he was let inside finally. John wanted to follow, but was stopped.

“I need to talk to Sam at first,” the doctor said, and Sam was grateful. He didn’t feel like dealing with his father right now. He wanted to have Dean only for himself for a while.

At first, the doctor checked the machines, then released the nurse and the orderly from the room, and only then turned to Sam.

“I promised you to be the first to know and I want to keep my promise even though I’ll have to repeat all these things to your dad,” the doctor started with a serious face. “We did a few examinations to check how Dean’s condition changed and I’m pleased to inform you that he’s doing much better.”

Sam breathed a sigh of relief, giving the doctor a small smile.

“The blood sample told us there’s no infection,” the doctor continued.

Sam only smirked. _I told you,_ he thought smugly.

“His lungs are clean and healthy. His heart was the only organ intact when he was brought here. It’s strong and it surely helped him to survive the first two days. The reason why it collapsed was because of exhaustion. Dean’s blood pressure was high and the lungs weren’t working properly. The liver and stomach are not perfectly all right, but they’re healing and they should be fine in a couple of weeks of normal healing. His kidneys, though…” The doctor took a deep breath and Sam felt chill running up his spine. He hadn’t gotten to the kidneys so far.

“What about them?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“When we did the surgery, we managed to save both of them, but they’re not working properly and it’s just a matter of time when they stop working altogether. When it happens, transplantation will be needed. Unless you manage to heal at least one of them.”

Sam trembled. “I’ll do what I can,” he promised, more to himself (and Dean) that to the doctor. “But in case I fail… Can he have my kidney? I’ll do _anything_ to save his life.” He felt a big lump growing in his throat.

The doctor sighed. “We’d need to run a few tests, but since you and your father are the closest blood relatives, it’s very likely that one of you would be a perfect donor…”

“I want it to be me,” Sam muttered. He couldn’t imagine anyone else to do his job, to save Dean. Sam was his Protector, he was supposed to donate his own organ, not Dad. Sam would have given even his heart willingly just to save his brother’s life.

“There’s already too much on your shoulders,” the doctor said gently.

Sam only shrugged and seated in his chair by Dean’s side.

The doctor left him alone in the room to talk to John. Sam listened to the beeping of the machines, itching to do some healing again, but he didn’t feel ready yet. He promised Dean and Bobby to be careful, but Dean’s kidneys were collapsing and Sam wasn’t sure he had that much time. Maybe he could check their condition and then decide? If only every trip into Dean’s mind and body hadn’t already cost him energy…

The day dragged lazily, the machines beeped and Sam still sat by Dean’s side, oblivious to the world around. John and Bobby came and left, but it was Pamela, who caught Sam’s attention finally.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t have left.”

He only looked at her, but said nothing.

“I was… mad. You pushed so hard despite my warnings and… I didn’t want to see you die. As it seemed, you were going exactly that way.”

Sam didn’t reply. He looked at Dean, the only person that mattered.

“I know how hard it is to watch your Warrior like this. I know that urge to save his life, damn the consequences. I know that all too well.”

Sam turned to her, his face blank. “You told me not to invade his mind, but I can’t do it any other way. Dean guides me and helps me to get back when I have enough. I need that connection,” he said reproachfully.

Pamela was quiet for a long time until she spoke again. “You two are utterly different to everything I’ve ever known about Pairs.” She smiled somberly.

Sam stayed quiet. He had heard that so many times before, only Pamela had always seemed ignorant to that. He turned his attention to Dean again. He so wanted to touch that pale skin, to ran his fingers through the soft hair, to kiss the dry lips… Just one touch and he would have either fallen asleep, giving up to the rush of Dean’s comatose state, or push against the flow and thus spend the much needed energy.

“Maybe we’re a new generation,” he commented dryly and glanced at her. “You know, I need you,” he said with more emotion in his voice. “You’ve taught me so much and I need you to teach me more. I want to be a good Protector. Worthy of Dean.”

He didn’t even realize he allowed desperation to color his voice. He had a feeling he had been failing Dean every now and then and his biggest failure was that he had never opposed Dad and ran after Dean. That he had let Dean go even though he was responsible for him. That he had allowed their bond to stretch so much that it was a wonder it hadn’t torn. He regretted that he hadn’t been more rebellious, that he had never insisted on them never to be separated.

Pamela breathed in sharply. “You are a good Protector, Sam,” she said in a firm voice. “You are a _great_ Protector. Dean can be happy to have you. You just…” She paused, looking for the right words. “You just do things your own way, not caring about the rules or general opinion. You simply follow your heart and plunge into it… And, somehow, it always works out well.” She sighed. “Maybe I’m a little bit jealous…”she added in a low voice, ashamed of her feelings.

Sam just stared, absolutely speechless. He had a feeling that he probably should say something, he just had no freaking idea what.

“I left mostly because I needed to come to terms with myself. I needed to think about this whole situation, but I know what I want. I want to be here whenever you need me. I want to help you whenever you need my help. I only ask you to have patience with me. You’re not the only one who’s learning.”

Sam frowned a little. “What do you mean I’m not the only one? What are _you_ learning?” he asked, confused, but Pamela only smiled mysteriously.

“Have some rest so that you could do some more healing,” she said and left the room before Sam could even protest.

He didn’t feel like sleeping, but sometimes during listening to the beeping of the machines and counting seconds still separating him from Dean’s awakening, he managed to doze off, anyway. He woke up in the evening, curled up in his chair. No one was in the room, but he could hear soft murmur from the other side of the door. He could distinguish Dad’s, Bobby’s and Pamela’s voices. They weren’t arguing, just discussing some things.

Sam didn’t need them to be there during his next healing session. To be honest, he preferred to be left alone with his brother, even though he admitted that in case something went wrong, having someone in the room could save his ass eventually.

“Oh, fuck it!” he growled and took Dean’s hand. He wanted to have his brother for himself. He always wanted to have his brother for himself. Was there something wrong about it?

 _Hey,_ Dean greeted him with a broad smile. _What’s new in the world?_

_Kidneys collapsing. There’s not much time to talk right now. Gimme the rope so that I can set to work._

Luckily, Dean didn’t even consider asking any questions. He understood the urgency. He produced the rope immediately and Sam tied it around himself. Before he let his consciousness wander toward the damaged organs, he sent Dean his love confession and felt Dean’s love wash through him. Sam smiled. They might have been sappy, but it gave them strength to keep going.

With the power of his will Sam forced the healing process in Dean’s body to speed up and his immunity system to protect the frail, regenerating organs from possible inflammation and infection. When he was done with the kidneys, which took a lot of time and energy, he removed his attention to the liver to finish his job there.

 _Sammy,_ Dean’s soft voice reminded him his exhaustion.

 _I’m almost done._ He could do it. He could finish it and then rest for a day, knowing Dean was safe.

Sam pushed a little bit harder, feeling the tiredness taking over him. _I’m done. But I need your help._

_Sure, lil bro._

Sam felt the pull of the rope, and when he opened his eyes, he was back in his body. John and Pamela watched him with eager eyes. However, he couldn’t see Bobby.

“All right?” Pamela asked softly.

“Yeah, I’m going to sleep,” Sam announced and stood up, but the moment he did so, his legs gave way and he would have ended up stretched out on the floor if strong arms hadn’t saved him from the fall. Sam looked up at his savior and smiled. “Hey, Bobby, I haven’t smelled you.”

Bobby snorted and picked him up. Before he put the boy on his bed, Sam was already blissfully asleep.

He slept through the whole day and when he woke up, warm meal was waiting for him. He wolfed it, trying to ignore the worried glances of three adults in the room.

“You overdid it again,” Bobby said quietly.

“No, I was careful this time,” Sam protested. “I made sure not to press too much.”

“And that’s how you ended up unable to make it even to bed,” Bobby pointed out.

Sam looked around at the grave faces and sighed. “You’re mad, I get that. I’m still learning, so _maybe_ I did more than I should have, but I didn’t try to do everything in one go. Only as much as I felt fit to heal. I swear.”

“Fine.” It was Pamela this time. Her voice sounded surprisingly soft and gentle. “But why didn’t you call someone to be with you while you were doing it?”

Sam didn’t have a satisfactory answer to that. Well… Not the one the adults would have appreciated.

For the next few days, Sam didn’t try to cause any trouble. Everyone seemed to have enough problems with themselves: Dad was trying to stay calm and supportive (meaning he kept his voice low around Dean and brought Sam meals), Pamela was always there for another healing session and guided Sam gently through it (even though Sam mostly did things his own way), Bobby hid his own worries and he was the one who was holding their small, weird family together, having an encouraging word for everyone who needed it. Sam sought his presence every time he wasn’t healing Dean or sleeping. Sometimes, just sitting side by side in hard chairs in the hospital corridor or in the quiet sterile room was enough for Sam. What he felt was a true companionship.

There was the doctor checking on Dean and Sam every day, taking Dean for examinations and looking pleased with the results. There were nurses taking care of Dean’s nutrition and hygiene. And there was Dean, being a problem himself. Even though Sam could talk to him during the healing sessions, he still missed him so fucking much. He wanted his brother to be okay so that he could cuddle to him again and find peace in his embrace.

And then finally the day came when Dean’s body was healed to the level there was no threat of any complications, so Sam used the time preparing for his next task – to check Dean’s brain and heal the possible damages. He was eating properly, maybe more than he should, and sleeping a lot so that he restored as much energy as possible for the next trip of his consciousness into Dean’s body. He was the only one who could save Dean from any mental damage. If he was successful, of course. After all, the brain was the most delicate and most complex organ. He didn’t feel ready for such a difficult healing, but he didn’t want to back off. Dean was his responsibility; Sam was obliged to do everything that was in his power.

It was early in the morning and Sam was already awake, sitting by the side of Dean’s bed and thinking about his next task. He hadn’t talked to his brother for three days already. It felt like eternity.

Bobby stayed with him tonight. Slouched in an uncomfortable chair in the corridor, he was sleeping. Pamela and John were gone for their own good night sleep, which meant there was no one keeping an eye on Sam in the room.

_I’ll only check the situation. No healing. I don’t need to bother anyone if it’s only that._

That was also the original plan, check for the possible brain damages and heal them only after he knew what part was injured and how much.

He took Dean’s hand eagerly and pushed his consciousness against the flow of faintness.

 _Long time no see._ Dean was beaming at him, taking all Sam’s doubts away (if there had even been any).

_Yeah, long time… I missed you, but I had to restore my energy._

_That’s okay, I get it._

_I’m not gonna do any healing today, I’ll only check your brain._

_Afraid of possible defects, heh?_ Dean smirked.

Sam raised an eyebrow. _There’s only this much I can do._

Dean made a horrified face, but Sam knew he was just teasing. _You wouldn’t mind me slobbering all over your pillow?_

Sam shrugged. _It’d be you, so no. Anyway, I can’t heal birth defects._

Dean stared. _What? Are you telling me I slobber in my sleep?_

Sam only smiled mysteriously.

 _Sassy little bitch,_ Dean growled, but with no anger in his tone. _Want me to help you?_ he asked, now serious.

Sam smiled. _As always._

Next moment he was clutching the familiar rope weaved of Dean’s love in his hands and concentrated on Dean’s brain, looking for the damages. He felt another consciousness keeping him company, feeling Dean’s presence more intensely than ever.

The tone was soft, but it resonated through Sam’s whole essence. As though the sound was a part of him.

_Dean?_

That feeling again.

_Can you feel it?_

_Jeez, yes. What is it?_

_Not sure, but… It feels like our minds are mingling together._

Suddenly, Sam wasn’t sure if the idea was his or Dean’s. There was probably really something about it.

 _The bars. They’re gone!_ he gasped. Or Dean did?

He shook his head. This was too much.

_Yes, fucking it is._

_This feels weird…_

_Do you agree with me or do I agree with myself?_

_Fuck, we’re one…_

_Isn’t it awesome?_ There was soft laughter.

_Let’s better get to work._

Sam started his exploration, tugging Dean’s consciousness with him. There was a lot to check, but everything seemed fine. _So far…_

_No pessimism, please._

_It wasn’t my thought._

_It so was._

_Stop agreeing with me!_

_Can’t. I’m you, remember?_

_This feels like talking to myself… Jesus, I’m schizophrenic._

_Hush, my alter ego, and concentrate. You’re distracting me._

_US! Bitch…_

_Why am I calling myself names?_

_Shut up._

More checking, with the same result.

_Something’s off…_

Sam already started feeling the tiredness, but it wasn’t the thing. This time he felt odd pull which he knew wasn’t caused by Dean pushing him out of his mind and body.

_Sam, there’re no chains…_

It was the last thing crossing Sam’s mind before a hazy picture of people surrounding his bed appeared in front of his eyes. He felt strange fingers gripping his hand and some weight on his hip.

_It’s your head, Sam._

_My… Fuck!_

Panic pierced their joined minds. Dean couldn’t be awake, not yet, there was still so much to do.

“Sedatives, quickly!” they both heard with Dean’s ears.

“Take his brother!”

_Dean?_

_Fuckdammit!_

Sam felt a rushed push back into his body, but it still didn’t save him from the agonizing pain right to the core of his soul. He felt like he was being split in two, important parts of his being were simply ripped off.

“DEAN!!!” he screamed, tear-filled eyes snapping open, seeing the green of Dean’s eyes disappearing behind heavy eyelids. “DEAN! DEAN!!! DEAN, NO!!!”  

“Damn, we have to sedate him as well. Syringe, quickly!”

“Dean!!!” Sam kept screaming, writhing in a strong pair of arms trying to pull him away from his brother. There was another pair helping the first one to achieve the goal, and then another, grabbing his arm and holding it still while the fourth pair rolled up his sleeve.

“No!!! Dean!!! No, please!!! DEAN!!!”

“Dammit, Sam, stop squirming!” a familiar voice ordered him, but Sam didn’t recognize it and didn’t even care about it. He wanted to get back to Dean, to renew the contact, to ease the lingering sharp pain.

“Dean!” he kept yelling, barely aware of the slight sting on his captured arm.

Three pairs of arms let go of him, but the last one was holding him in an iron grip until the world around went black and Sam fell into nothingness.

John put his youngest on the empty bed. He couldn’t say that Sam’s panic after he had been pulled away from his brother didn’t scare him and the worry in Pamela’s eyes definitely didn’t make things better.

The doctor checked Sam’s pressure, pulse and reaction of his pupils, then he announced Sam was all right and moved to Dean to check his condition.

“The heartbeat slowed down. The other vital functions are back to normal as well,” he said to John after a while.

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” the doctor started slowly. “He was waking up and his heart was beating too fast. I think it had something to do with Sam’s healing.” He glanced at the younger boy.

“Sam healed Dean before and nothing like that happened so far,” John pointed out.

“I have no satisfactory explanation for what happened,” the doctor said with a sigh. “All I can say is that they’ll sleep for a while.”

“So you think Dean will wake up?”

“Eventually, yes. He’ll come around. But at first we need to run a few tests before it happens. Just to make sure he’s all right and there are no complications. Otherwise we’ll have to keep him in sleep.”

“What about his brain?”

“We’ll know more about the possible damage when he’s awake, but we’ll check the brain as well in case there are some changes the machines can detect.”

“Thank you,” John said with a sigh.

“One more thing,” the doctor said, glancing at the youngest Winchester one more time. “We had to give Sam a higher dose of sedatives than Dean and I’m sure his exhaustion will have its influence on the length of his sleep as well. You don’t need to worry if he sleeps longer than normally.”

“I understand. Thank you again, doctor.”

Dean’s examinations took almost the whole day which Sam completely slept through. Pamela was sitting by his side the whole time, studying his face, all tense. John contemplated asking her what was wrong, but he didn’t have enough courage. She looked ready to jump anyone who would try to approach her right now like a furious mountain lion she was. Only Bobby was courageous enough to do it. He put a hand on her shoulder and, surprisingly, she didn’t hiss at him.

“How is he?”

She looked up at the hunter and John could see true worry in their eyes. _Like parents…_ The realization hit John hard. He had allowed strangers to become close to his son, closer than he had ever tried to be. It hurt.

“Seriously? I don’t know,” Pamela said quietly. “But tearing him away from Dean was an unlucky decision.”

“You know Dean was waking up and his heartbeat was too crazy. Maybe getting Sam away was the best decision,” Bobby said gently.

Pamela shrugged. “Maybe…” She looked at Sam again. Reaching out hesitantly, she removed a strand of hair from the boy’s forehead. “I can’t lose him,” she whispered.

“You won’t lose him,” Bobby said with conviction. “He’s one tough and stubborn little bitch.” He gave Pamela a small smile and John noticed how the tension slowly started leaving her body.

The three of them spent the whole night in the hospital in the end, waiting for the boys to wake up. It was Dean, who opened his eyes first.

“’am?” he rasped, trying to focus his eyes on the world around. He could sense him close by, but everything was just one big blur. “’ammy…”

“Dean?” It was Dad’s voice and after a while, Dean could recognize his features. “How do you feel?”

It was a stupid question. How could he feel without his Sammy anywhere in sight? He felt him, yes, but the residual pain in his mind and soul from the violent separation before he had fallen asleep messed up with his Protector’s sixth sense pretty effectively.

“Where’s Sam?” he managed to force out, but his dry throat protested immediately and he started coughing.

“Easy,” John said, and Dean could hear a sound of opening and closing door. “You’re in hospital. Bobby went for a nurse. It’ll be okay…”

 _Like fuck it will!_ Dean had enough of that soothing voice, telling him shit that didn’t interest him a bit right now.

“Sam?” he asked with emphasis in his voice while the world around became clearer.

“There,” John beckoned to the other side of the room. “He’s sleeping.”

Dean turned his head and FINALLY his eyes adjusted to the sterile white all around. He could see Sam sleeping on a hospital bed, lying on his side turned to Dean.

Dean looked at his father with a silent question in his eyes, _Is he okay?_

“He’s fine,” John said, a slight smile on his lips.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief, closing his eyes. Before the nurse with Bobby at her heels came into the room to check on him, he was asleep again.

It was later in the afternoon when Sam’s dream was penetrated by familiar voices. One was Dad, he recognized it right away. The woman’s voice belonged to Pamela. The third voice was raspy, sounding like sand paper, and low, but it still made Sam’s heart beat faster and his breath hitch in his lungs. He forced his dog ears out to hear better that heavenly sound, the voice more precious than any other, the voice that he wasn’t supposed to hear unless…

Sam’s eyes snapped open and he sat up abruptly. There, on the other bed, Dean was sitting quite awake, staring back at him, the light in the green eyes dim, but there was still the sparkle Sam knew so well, the sparkle that appeared in Dean’s eyes whenever he looked at Sam.

“Dean,” Sam breathed out and jumped off the bed.

A small smile curled Dean’s lips. “Hey, pup.”

A quiet, excited whine escaped Sam’s mouth. He plastered his dog ears to his skull and he would have wagged his tail vigorously if he only hadn’t been wearing any pants. He crossed the few feet separating their beds in a dizzying speed and threw himself around Dean’s neck. Dean wrapped one arm around his little brother while the other was resting beside his body with a needle still sticking out of it. Sam could feel an immediate flow of absolute love, gratitude and happiness streaming into his body; no sleepiness was taking over him today.

“Dean,” he whined again. Dean’s hand traveled up his back to the nape of his neck, brushing it lightly. Sam sighed and pressed his lips to Dean’s mouth, giving him a slow, gentle open-mouthed kiss, a silent _I love you_ and _I missed you_ and _I care about you_ said in their own non-verbal way. It was Dean who turned the kiss into something fiercer and more desperate, which Sam could easily translate into _I love you so freaking much_ and _I fucking need you_ and _I can’t live without you anymore._ He kissed Dean harder, teeth grazing the soft lips, tongue searching for tongue. _I’m not leaving you. EVER._ Dean sighed and finally his kisses became a little softer; relief flooded Sam’s system.

They had almost lost each other. The raw need of the proof that this was real, that neither of them was an imagination of an exhausted and wishful mind, that they both were alive and together with nothing separating them anymore, urged them into each other’s arms. Clinging to each other, kissing as though their lives depended on it, they totally forgot that the room wasn’t empty and there were witnesses of their passionate reunion. Pamela was already half-way out of the room and Bobby, who hadn’t left the boys alone ever since Dean had woken up for the first time, was trying to persuade John to stop staring and move.

“Let’s go, John. Give them a moment.”

When the father of the young Pair didn’t react to the hunter’s words, Bobby grabbed his collar and literally dragged him out of the room. John didn’t even protest and Bobby didn’t bother to figure out why.

Since then, Sam barely left Dean’s side (truth to be told, he left only when he needed to pee or a nurse came to help Dean with his own hygiene). He also became suspicious of anyone who neared his Warrior and the only person at whom he didn’t scowl was Bobby. Even Pamela, who kept her distance, got her share of frowns while John always met cold look of hazel eyes. The doctor had to deal with the dog boy watching him intently and the nurses had been always warned by a low, menacing growl before they were allowed to come closer. No one escaped Sam’s attention.

At night, Sam would let his dog ears out, no sound escaping his sharp hearing. Even in his sleep Sam would guard his brother, no visitors allowed. When silence fell in the hospital corridors, Sam would sneak into Dean’s bed, snuggling to his brother, head dipped under Dean’s chin. Dean would wrap his arm around Sam’s shoulders, his nose buried in Sam’s hair, and while breathing the faint scent of his Protector, he fell asleep. Sam would return in his own bed only shortly before the doctor came to check on Dean’s condition in the morning, his keen ears warning him about the visitor unerringly.

A week had passed since Dean had woken up from his coma and during which Sam wasn’t allowed to continue healing whatever was left to heal.

“Leave it to the body,” Dean said the very next day after he regained his consciousness when Sam offered. “You need rest.”

“I don’t,” Sam tried to argue, but it was pointless to lie to Dean. Sam’s brother knew better than anyone else that Sam had reached deep to the source of his energy in order to heal Dean’s severest injuries. Now the boy needed proper sleep, nutritious food, good care and no troubles. Maybe that was why John never said anything when Sam looked at Dean for a few seconds longer than he probably should or when Dean entwined their fingers together, his thumb brushing the back of Sam’s hand in something more than just an innocent display of brotherly love. And there was that need even in the slightest movement of their bodies, talking how much dependent they were on each other.

“Don’t be stupid,” Dean said with a chuckle and shifted on the bed to make place for Sam to lie down beside him.

Sam stopped bitching and offering, but he made a mental promise to himself to finish the job the moment he could.

 


	20. Recuperating

 

At last, Dean was released into home treatment. John, Bobby and Pamela agreed he wasn’t fit enough for such a long drive back to Sioux Falls, so he ended up in the backseat of his beloved Impala with Sammy cuddled up to his side while Bobby was driving. Meanwhile Pamela took care of Bobby’s car while John drove his own jeep. The boys slept through most of the journey. The events of the last few weeks left them totally drained both physically and mentally. Even Bobby was happy to go back home and he was looking forward to cool beer in the fridge and his bed.

The bed became the best friends of the boys for the next couple of days. They slept most of the time, coming downstairs only when they were hungry. Only when the fear of losing Dean finally disappeared, Sam realized how much exhausted he actually was. Dean’s stay in hospital took its price as well and the boy, even though he slept less than his little brother, used the chance to stay in bed as long as he could (and left it only when Sam did).

It took Sam two whole days until he was able to stay awake for a couple of hours during which he and Dean watched some stupid comedy show on the TV, sitting on the old carpet and leaning against the couch behind their backs while snuggled to each other. They were like conjoined twins. Where was one, there was also the other, usually maintaining a physical contact as though they were afraid that if there was even the smallest distance between them, they wouldn’t be able to find their way back to each other. Even when they were eating in the kitchen, sitting by the table, their ankles were hooked together.

As days were going by, Bobby realized that, indeed, it was fear that turned the boys into clingy fools. More and more they retreated either into their room or Sam’s jeep in the yard, obviously wanting to be left alone. Bobby blamed John for that. The guy was like a vulture, barely giving the boys privacy, watching their every step. If Bobby wasn’t sure about Sam and Dean’s location, the only thing he needed to do was to ask their father. Even Pamela seemed to be fed up with John’s supervision over his sons very soon.

It was a whole week later when Bobby witnessed a conversation he thought had happened a long time ago. The boys had finally managed to stay awake longer than asleep and they were lazing around in the living room, doing nothing in particular, with John in the room with them reading newspaper and pretending he was invisible.

“Do you want me to finish the healing?” Sam asked in a shaky voice. It sounded like he was afraid of the answer, especially afraid Dean’s answer could be ‘yes’. Which was weird, considering his eagerness to heal Dean completely back in the hospital.

“Leave it to the body, Sammy,” Bobby heard Dean’s soft voice. “You had enough and I’m not going to die. You did a lot, now get your strength back.”

“Okay.” Bobby didn’t know if he only imagined that or there really was a shitload of relief in Sam’s tone.

To his surprise, John didn’t say a word. He didn’t react at all.

The boys were getting better and things started going back to normal: morning run with Pamela (which John joined), training (John watched them and instructed them from time to time, reminding them to take it easy), helping Pamela in the house or Bobby in the garage (John always knew where they were and what they were doing), and when they had it enough, they locked themselves in the room or hid in the jeep.

At last the adults agreed it was time for Sam to go back to school. Dean offered to take him. John refused his offer, saying Dean still wasn’t fit to drive and that he would take Sam himself. Dean insisted to join the ride, to which John could hardly say ‘no’.

At first the plan was that Sam would drive, but he was so nervous with Dad in the passenger seat watching his every move and also with the possibility he was going to lose Dean today (he didn’t trust Dad not to use the same trick as when he and Dean were little and take off with Sam’s big brother while Sam was at school) that he wasn’t able to sit behind the wheel. He snuggled to Dean in the backseat, shaking all over, while Dean was stroking his back soothingly, yet inside he was as nervous as Sam. Or would have been if Sam hadn’t taken away most of that feeling, ending up as a shaking ball of nerves with doubled worry.  

“I’ll walk him to the door,” Dean said determinedly when John parked in front of the school, no objection allowed.

When Sam pulled away in order to get out of the car, Dean’s stomach knotted with nerves right away. He didn’t allow any contact between the two of them while they were walking side by side to the school entrance. Sam had already had it enough.

“Sammy,” Dean addressed his brother when they stood in front of the open door.

Sam looked like he wasn’t even breathing when his eyes met Dean’s. Dean scratched in his hair nervously, but he didn’t look away.

“Listen, I know you’re resolved to never let me go again,” he said slowly, feeling the storm in Sam’s soul.

Sam gave a curt nod, not saying a word.

“And I know you’re afraid you could be tricked and we’ll end up with miles separating us and it’ll be definite,” Dean continued.

This time, Sam bit his lip, but Dean didn’t need his answer.

“I want you to know… No. I NEED you to know that I’m not leaving you. I’ll either stay or you’ll go with me.” He hoped he sounded determined enough to convince Sam.

“How about Dad?” Sam asked, his voice slightly trembling.

“Leave Dad to me, okay?”

Sam nodded and Dean could feel his complete trust. What else could he do, anyway? If Dean left, Sam was hardly able to do anything about it and that helplessness terrified him.

Dean reached for Sam’s hand and squeezed it shortly to let Sam know he wasn’t kidding. He could be as stubborn as his father or the younger brother as well.

He took a deep breath and patted Sam’s cheek playfully. “Have a nice day, pup. Don’t make me ashamed of you,” he said with a light smile before he turned around and walked away. Sam was watching him, he could feel the younger boy’s eyes on his back until he reached the car and slid into the passenger’s seat. That was when Sam finally entered the school building.

Dad said nothing, and Dean was grateful for that. He didn’t want to hear anything about him and Sam being ridiculous and wrong or disgusting. He didn’t want to be judged for their relationship. He loved Sam and he was prepared to fight for him, but he wanted Dad leave him alone at least for a while.

Unfortunately, his relief was short-lived.

“Dean,” John started barely did he park the car in front of Bobby’s house. “I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah?” Dean felt like bumping his head against the car window.

“The thing that happened to you… You know it was because the demons mistook you for a Protector, right?”

Dean glanced at his father. John’s eyes were fixed on him, watching him intently. There was nowhere to run. “I know,” he said blankly, wondering what this conversation was about.

“Then you know what would’ve happened if it had been Sammy. He would’ve either died or gone crazy...”

John fell silent, but he didn’t stop watching Dean, who tensed and looked away, chill crawling up his spine. He was perfectly aware of all those things, but it didn’t mean he wanted to hear them. With him going through the torture of having tried to have his essence (which as a Warrior he didn’t have of course) ripped out, all that horror became too real. Dean knew his task. He had to protect Sammy so that nothing like that ever happened to him.

“There is a way to prevent it from happening to him,” John continued in a low voice.

Dean gazed at him incredulously for a moment. “Is there?” he asked, half-hopeful and half-dubious.

“Yeah, there is. You won’t like it, though,” John sighed.

“What is it?”

“Cutting Sammy off.”

The temperature in the car dropped rapidly and the atmosphere became so tense that Dean was afraid that if he had moved, he would have caused a small apocalypse.

“No,” he said resolutely, fisting his hands resting on his thighs, brow furrowed, jaw set.

John sighed. “Dean…”

“No.”

“Let me explain…”

“No way in hell I’m doing that.” He was trembling, heart beating painfully against his ribcage, his breathing fast. “No friggin’ way!” He was so angry that he almost shouted his last words.

“Listen to me!” It was John’s turn to raise his voice. “Do you think I would want to hurt you if I knew any other way?”

“You wanted it from me once,” Dean pointed out venomously.

“I know and I’m sorry for that. You two are not making things easy for me, either. I overreacted. I know I shouldn’t have, but whatever I do to protect you, you seem to find a way to ruin my efforts effectively.”

Dean had nothing to say to that, partly because Dad was right. He could see himself why Sam was held in a golden cage and was hardly allowed to live the life a teenage boy should live. He knew why Dad had been so mad when he had found out about him and Sam. He knew that they had messed up pretty much, but despite all of that he never regretted anything. Things were tough, yes, and there were sacrifices, but Dean could never be happier than when he could feel Sam’s love radiating into the air, when he knew he was the only one for his little brother. Dean could have his car, his music collection, his jacket, but the only thing that was truly HIS was Sam, his Protector.

“Look at it this way,” John used the silence. “If you cut Sam off, he won’t be a Protector anymore. Demons will lose their interest in him. He’ll be safe. You both will be. I’m not asking you to do it right away. Take your time. Think about it.”

Dean wanted to snap there was nothing to think about, but Dad had a point. Sam was in constant danger and Dean couldn’t even imagine that something similar to what happened to him should happen to Sammy. Was it really the only way? Who was Dean to deny his brother the only possibility to stay out of demons’ radar?

He didn’t say anything when he got out from the car and slammed the door shut behind himself. He was pissed. At Dad that he might have been right and Dean was being selfish when he didn’t want to let go of the most precious person in his life. And at himself for wanting to scream at Dad ‘Take me away with you, but don’t want me do this!’. He was pissed that he wanted Sam to spend his life in his prison rather than finally have his freedom. He was ashamed that he was still thinking about their deal and every day he was more and more determined to fulfill it.

He didn’t feel like talking to anyone, definitely didn’t feel like facing Dad, and so he retreated into Sam’s shelter, the old jeep Sam used when he wanted to be left alone. For some reason, everyone knew and respected that nonfunctional vehicle was a sanctuary only for the chosen ones. But even the jeep couldn’t protect Dean from himself. Doubts were eating him from the inside, he didn’t believe in the rightness of his decision to never cut Sammy off anymore. But he couldn’t do it, could he? He couldn’t let his brother go… Yes, he was a selfish bastard and he was ashamed for it, but he simply couldn’t lose Sam. Anything but not Sam.

He was restless and with hours passed his anger only increased. He needed to see his brother. To be with him again. And even though he knew it was pointless to go for Sam sooner than his classes were over, it was still better than staying in the salvage yard under Dad’s supervision. He felt an urging need to get away from him for a while. And he longed for Sam. With Sammy around nothing seemed so bad.

No one tried to stop him when he got into the Impala, only Dad growled something very similar to “You should rest”, but Dean snapped “I’m fine” and drove off.

He waited in the car until the kids started pouring out of the school building, trying to catch a glimpse of his brother. It took Sam some time to come out, but when he did, he didn’t have his things with him, only the phone, which was suspicious. Dean got out from the Impala and walked to the school gate to meet Sam half-way.

“Hey, pup.”

“Hey,” Sam said a little bit breathless. It seemed he hurried out from the building. “I’ve just called Bobby that I’m staying longer. I missed a lot of classes and Sam agreed to help me.”

“Sam? You mean Samantha, your girlfriend?” Dean deadpanned.

Sam stiffened, then frowned. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he snapped, offended, but then he grabbed Dean’s hand and frowned even more. “What happened?”

Dean pulled his hand out of Sam’s. “Later. Go study with your girl. Do you mind if I stay?”

Sam crossed his arms on his chest. “Only if you don’t stop acting like an idiot. She’s not one of those wanting to get into my pants.”

Dean raised his eyebrow. “Are there such girls? Huh, I would never guess.”

Sam glared and a quiet, warning growl only assured Dean he was pissed. “Asshole,” he huffed. “ For your information, she knows you as my boyfriend.”

“Does she?” a light smile curled Dean’s lips.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Let’s better go so that she doesn’t wait for long,” he said and started down the corridor with Dean at his heels. “Anyway, how come you were allowed to drive?” Sam asked after a few seconds of silence.

Dean shrugged. “I didn’t ask for permission.”

Sam gave him a scrutinizing look, but said nothing.

After some time they entered an empty classroom. A girl was sitting there by one of the desks, waiting for Sam. She raised her head from a notebook in front of her as they walked in, her blue eyes sizing Dean up.

Sam gave her a small, little bit nervous smile. “Sam, this is Dean,” he said to the girl. “Dean, this is my friend Sam.”

Dean, feeling Sam’s vigilance, gave the girl a radiant smile. “Hey,” he said and extended his hand toward her. “Nice to meet you. Sam talked about you.” He knew how to be charming.

“Hi,” the girl greeted him back with a shy look. She stood up and shook Dean’s hand quickly. “He talked about you too.”

Dean grinned and snaked his arm around Sam’s waist, pulling him close. Sam went, mostly because the action surprised him, and blushed when his hip collided with Dean’s. The message was clear for both Sam and the girl. Sam belonged to Dean, there was no discussion about it. Dean didn’t even know why it was so important for him to state his claim.

“Thanks for helping him,” he said, and his hold on Sam’s hip tightened.

“No problem,” the girl, Samantha, replied. “I hope you’re all right. Sam said you’d been sick.”

Dean glanced at Sam, who stubbornly stared in front of himself. “Yeah, but I’m fine now, thanks.” He smiled again. “Now, you kids, go study,” he said and slapped Sam’s rear playfully. Sam winced and blushed even more, which Dean found totally adorable. His grin even widened as Sam glared. “Would you mind if I stay? I’ll sit in the back.”

“No, it’s okay,” Samantha said and sat down again, glancing at Sam, who looked like he wished nothing else than disappear in thin air. When he drew a chair to her desk and sat down, she smiled at him and whispered, “He’s adorable in his own way.”

Sam studied her face for a moment to figure out if she was serious or just making fun of him, but she seemed sincere, so he smiled and said, “He’s an idiot.”

She chuckled. “He’s not so bad. I like him.”

Sam smiled and threw a glance over his shoulder at Dean, who moved to the back part of the classroom and sat on the windowsill, before he turned back to Samantha. “Okay, let’s set to work.”

Dean meanwhile looked out from the window at the world outside: at the kids leaving the school, at the cars passing by the school grounds, at the greenery all around, at the clouds floating in the sky… Just a normal world with normal rules and normal troubles, not afraid of danger lurking in shadows, because it didn’t know it. And the danger was so big and terrifying! There was so much evil in the world he knew, wanting to hurt his Sammy… But Dad said there was a way to protect Dean’s little brother, but that way scared Dean much more than any critter hiding in the darkness.

He looked at his brother bending over a textbook. The girl, Samantha, was patiently explaining something from it in a calm voice. Sam asked her a question from time to time, nodding when he understood and scribbled something into his notebook.

Dean scrutinized Samantha from head to toe. She wasn’t the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, but she wasn’t bad looking either. Her dark brown hair was combed in a long ponytail, her eyes were bright and friendly, the dark blue T-shirt clang to her body, to her nicely formed breasts. She smiled a lot, but it wasn’t the cheap, hungry smile of a girl on a hunt which Dean knew too well. All in all, she seemed to be a nice girl and a good friend. A good girl for Sam if Dean let him go.

The thought stung Dean deep in his heart. He couldn’t imagine Sam with anyone else. Didn’t WANT to. Sam was HIS, body and soul, completely and invariably. End of discussion. But there was still that bitter feeling, the doubt about his decision to never do the thing Dad had asked him to do.

The sudden feeling of loneliness came over Dean and he needed his brother to bring him comfort. He concentrated on Sam’s emotions, but the younger boy was engrossed in school work and Dean had to dig deeper to find what he longed for.

It wasn’t enough. And sitting there and watching Sam, picking up on every strand of his love when he needed to be blanketed in it wasn’t doing him any good. Maybe later, when they were alone in their room, the house dark and silent… Yes, maybe they could…

Dean jumped off the windowsill and came up to the studying couple.

“Hey, kids, I have an errand in the town. I’ll be back soon,” he said with a small smile, ready to leave.

Sam gave him suspicious look. “Are you okay?”

“Sure, pup. See you later.”

Dean put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, just a brief, innocent touch, but an important one. Sam managed to stifle a gasp and when they looked at each other again, there was fire in the younger boy’s eyes. Dean knew Sam understood.

True to his word, he was back no more than a half-hour later. Sam and Samantha were still studying, so Dean returned to his windowsill and watched the world outside.

After what seemed like an hour the kids were finally done. _Thank God,_ Dean thought with relief, already bored to death, but he didn’t plan to go home right away. He knew what was waiting there. Sam would either train with Dad or study some more, which neither of it was fun. And Dean wanted pie.

“Hey, Samantha… uh… Sam…” he started a little bit awkwardly. Really, kids and their sense of humor… “As a thank you for helping Sammy, can we take you out for a coffee, tea, hot chocolate? Or pie? Whatever you like. My treat.” Yeah, Dean could be grateful. Especially if it granted him some time with Sam.

Sam looked at Dean, surprised, but then his hand slid into Dean’s and he must have been satisfied with what he could feel, because he smiled at the girl. “If Dean offers to pay, you should definitely come,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

Dean raised an eyebrow, then he let go of Sam’s hand abruptly and curled his arm around his waist swiftly, pressing him close. Sam yelped at the unexpected action and when their eyes met, Dean said with a serious face, knowing Sam would figure out he was just kidding, “I’m paying only for your friend Sam here. You, my dear, pay your own debts.”

Sam gave an exaggerated gasp and, of course, he was kidding, too, when he said, “I thought it was a date in some way and that you were inviting me.”

Dean had to laugh when he understood the reason why Sam said what he said. The bitch wanted to warn the girl that in case she was interested, Dean was off limits. _Smart, Sammy._ They grinned at each other and before Dean let go of his brother/boyfriend, he ran his hand up and down Sam’s back in a loving gesture. Then Sam packed his stuff while Samantha tried to look as indifferent as she could.

“So? Are you coming?” Sam asked her, and now his tone was back from playful to normal.

Samantha glanced at Dean as though she wanted to make sure she was really invited.

“We’ll take you home after,” he said quickly, and finally the girl agreed.

The three of them visited a small café not too far from the school. Dean slid into the booth next to Sam and put his arm on the backrest in an obvious possessive gesture, his thumb stroking Sam’s shoulder lightly.

They ordered, Sam and Samantha both chocolate milk shakes, but while he had a chocolate chip muffin, she wanted a cheesecake. Dean asked for his favorite apple pie and black coffee.

He didn’t talk much, usually only contributed to the kids’ conversation about math, biology and history, about coming literature test, about the geography school project and other things teenagers usually discussed. Dean loved watching this side of Sam’s life since he didn’t know it very well, just a normal kid in a normal world with normal problems. But Sammy wasn’t normal, and thank God for that! If he were, he wouldn’t have belonged to Dean, not this way at least, yet his world would definitely have been much less complicated. Sammy deserved less complicated. The truth was that they both were freaks even in their own world and ‘complicated’ was their second name.

He let the kids decide when the time to go home was, and he noticed that Sam wasn’t the one hurrying home. Neither was Dean. In the end, it was Samantha who thought that hanging out for too long wasn’t such a good idea. They gave her a lift and when they were finally alone, Dean drove back to the salvage yard, but without a hurry.

“Will you tell me now what happened?” Sam asked after some time of comfortable silence.

“Why do you think something happened?” Dean replied stupidly.

“Dean.” Of course Sam wasn’t going to let go. He never let go. Just like the Little Prince.

Dean considered his answer carefully. He had let Sam feel his doubts and anger. And Dean _was_ better now; with Sam around the world was always brighter.

"I missed you," he said, and he wasn't lying. Since the talk with Dad, he had longed for his brother and his comforting touch.

"Is that all?" Dean could hear doubt in Sam's voice and he didn't need to look at his brother to know Sam was watching him intently.

"Sure," he assured him, not even glancing in Sam's direction. If Sam had known about Dad's idea, he would have had a fit. Dean didn't want to destroy that fragile truce between their father and his youngest son. It was the first time after long years that Dad and Sam finally talked to each other without any unnecessary emotions or passed each other with cold ostracism. It was a good change. Something Dean had thought would happen never again. That was why he decided to shut up and never bring the thing up in front of his brother. It was best for everyone.

"I missed you, too," Sam spoke after a while, and a smile curled his lips. He decided to believe Dean, which was quite uncommon. Perhaps he longed for peace as well.

Dean returned the smile and hoped he could grant Sam his wish for as long as possible. He knew that sooner or later there would be a collision, but until then, they could pretend everything was just perfect.

After some time they reached the salvage yard. Sam collected his school bag from the backseat and then they walked into the house together. Sam didn't go upstairs into their room as Dean expected, but peeked into the living room where the adults were discussing something while drinking whiskey. Sam granted each of them with an assessing look before he asked no one in particular, "Training?" Training was Sam's routine and since things were falling back to normal, it was understandable he expected someone to train with him.

It was John who replied. "No training today, Sammy, just take some rest."

Sam glanced at Pamela and Bobby as if he wanted to make sure they were okay with that, and only then he said with a shrug. "All right. I'm gonna study in that case." He turned around after that and headed upstairs.

Dean glanced at his father. He was sure there was a load of distrust in his eyes while he could read expectation in John's. He huffed inwardly and followed Sammy into their room.

They didn’t talk. Sam scattered his notes and textbooks over the bed while Dean occupied a small space in the corner of it, leaning against the headboard. He took some book and pretended he was reading while Sam was studying.

They looked like they didn’t care about each other a bit, but both of them were very well aware of the presence of the other, Dean maybe a tad more than Sam. Sam seemed to be engrossed in his homework, so Dean dared to watch him over the edge of the book. The boy was turning into a man. He was still lanky and probably he would always be, but his figure was definitely changing from a boy’s into a man’s. The curves of muscles were distinguishable under the clothes (and not even the loose shirts could hide the broadening shoulders anymore) and the little fat Sam had was gathered in the right places, God bless the hard training! He was tall, already taller than Dean, and still growing. He was strong, fast and proud. And Dean’s. Always Dean’s.

Sam looked up from his textbook, meeting Dean’s eyes. It was only a second, maybe two (or three?), but Dean’s insides trembled nevertheless as he was hit by the strong wave of Sam’s affectionate feelings directed right at him. He suppressed a gasp as sparks of excitement ignited in his body and blood rushed into his lower parts.

Sam smirked over his textbook, not looking at Dean anymore.

Dean banged his head against the wall behind him gently and Sam’s grin widened.

 _Bitch,_ he thought, even though he knew Sam didn’t have the ability to catch it, especially if his attention was turned back to the book. On the other hand, Dean could sense Sam’s _I love you_ filling the room. He stretched out his foot and pressed his toes to his brother’s shoulder. _You know I love you, too._ Sam looked at him again, no trace of the amusement from before was visible in his face. His hand touched Dean’s leg, fingers rolling the jeans up a little bit and there, right above the line of the sock, he pressed a kiss on the naked skin. Then he caressed the leg, then rolled the jeans back down and put his hand over the kissed place while his attention returned to studying.

Dean didn’t move. He felt comfortable with his toes touching Sam’s shoulder while Sam’s hand was resting on his leg. There was this connection, this silent understanding, and Dean couldn’t imagine losing it. Ever. He knew what he was going to do and that filled him with courage. He didn’t remember when he felt this courageous. He could take down the whole world if Sam was by his side. He could do anything.

Time was going by and they didn’t say a single word , Sam studying dutifully and Dean watching him, now openly. Sam wasn’t bothered by it. From time to time he smiled at his big brother and continued in his schoolwork.

It was time for dinner, and later on for the evening run. Still recuperating, Dean didn’t join Sam and Pamela for it and used the time to take a shower while they were out. It was the only time when Dean left Sam’s side, otherwise he was always close. That was his answer to Dad’s request. And if Dad didn’t get it, well, it was his problem, not Dean’s. When Sam returned, he wanted to study some more, but Dean persuaded him it was enough for one day. Sam didn’t even protest as much as Dean had expected, and, rather gratefully, he disappeared in the bathroom. Dean waited for him in the room.

He cleared Sam’s textbooks from the bed, but it couldn’t occupy him for long. He didn’t feel like doing anything until Sam joined him in the room. Then he knew what he would do. He would enjoy the feel of Sam’s body pressed to his, he would kiss the hell outta him. He would push his love into Sam’s system, he would make him understand to whom he belonged. He would never let him go…

As he got here in his thoughts, the door of the room opened and Sam slid in, naked, only with a towel wound around his hips. Water was dripping from his still wet hair and little droplets were rolling down his chest. He closed the door quickly and granted Dean with a heated look.

Dean held his breath. Sam was simply gorgeous.

“What…?” he stammered, but fell silent when Sam gave him a predatory smile and sneaked up to Dean’s side of the bed. He bent to Dean’s face, flames in his eyes, but there was no trace of smile in his face anymore.

“I could feel it the entire afternoon, that tension. It’s been building up the whole time and even though I think it’s insane with Dad under one roof, I can’t take it anymore. Do you understand? I’m done holding back.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Holding back what exactly?”

“This.” Sam’s mouth attacked Dean’s, demanding the entry into his mouth. And who was Dean to deny him that? He opened his mouth and welcomed Sam in with a gentle caress of his tongue, but Sam wasn’t having that. He pushed his tongue deep as though he wanted nothing less than reach Dean’s tonsils. He kissed him wildly with ferocity of a beast of prey, kissed him violently as though he wanted to kiss the very soul out of Dean. Kissed him with everything he had, with all his love and fear and worry of the last few weeks and relief and happiness that they were together again.

“Wow,” Dean breathed out when their mouths parted for a moment to get some air into their lungs, and there was Sam’s hungry mouth again, more biting than kissing Dean messily.

Dean’s arms came up, winding around Sam securely, and in the next second, Sam was lying, perplexed, on the bed with Dean on top of him and grinning.

“Hi,” Dean said joyfully.

Sam was staring at him, the tip of his tongue captured between his lips, and he strongly reminded Dean of the dog he actually was.

Dean lowered his head to his brother’s face and he sucked Sam’s tongue into his mouth. The kiss was gentle this time. There was no hurry in it, no ferocity, no desperation, no will to possess, only the purest love.

Sam mewled and folded his arms around Dean’s neck. Dean’s mouth slid down to Sam’s chin and then traced the line of his jaw. The younger Winchester gave a short, broken moan and his hips bucked up into Dean’s. He slowly spread his legs for his brother to fit between them.

“You weren’t kidding. You really are done,” Dean whispered, amused, in a velvety voice as he could feel Sam’s hard-on digging into his hip. He ran his fingers down his brother’s side until he reached the towel and pulled it off. “You won’t need this.”

Sam breathed out sharply, and hooked his right leg with Dean’s, rubbing their crotches together.

Dean groaned into Sam’s shoulder. “Jesus, Sammy, impatient much?”

“You’ve been teasing me ever since you came to pick me out from school,” Sam huffed and sniffed at Dean’s neck. “Every time you touched me it was like you injected me with pure lust. Try to keep straight face when your lover does that!”

“Hmm… Good to know you’re so great with self-control,” Dean purred and nuzzled Sam’s face, pressing a kiss right under Sam’s ear.

“Jerk. I had to block it or, I swear to God, I would have jumped you.”

“Why didn’t you let me know?” Dean asked, his fingers running up and down Sam’s side.

“What would you have done? Stopped touching me? I didn’t want that.” Sam sighed and took Dean’s face in his hands. “I know why you left when Samantha was helping me with studying.”

Dean smirked. “Oh, really?”

Sam grinned. “Would I be lying here under you if you hadn’t gotten it?”

Dean laughed. “Smart little bitch.”

“It’s a bad idea, though, you know…” Sam was suddenly serious.

Dean could feel his doubts, but they were too weak in comparison with the almost suffocating desire.

“You wanna stop?” he asked, just to make sure. He didn’t want to do anything Sam didn’t want.

“I’m afraid it’s too late,” Sam said and sighed heavily. “You were gone for so long and when I saw you again, you were in coma and almost died right under my hands… And finally you’re here and okay…” His voice broke, his eyes blazing with odd fire.

“I’m alive and all yours,” Dean said with a gentle smile. “I’m not giving you up. You trust me, right?”

Suddenly the answer was vitally important. Dean had made his decision. Now he needed Sam to trust him, to believe that from now on there was no one going to separate them, Dean would see about that.

“I trust you,” Sam whispered, and the corners of his mouth lifted.

“Very well, then,” Dean said and ran his fingers through Sam’s wet hair. “And now let me make you feel good.”

Sam chuckled when Dean’s lips touched his collar bone. “You sound like bad porn.”

“Do I?” Dean ran his tongue over the line of the bone before he moved lower to Sam’s left nipple and sucked. Sam moaned and flexed his back a little in pursue of Dean’s skillful mouth. “Still bad porn?”

“No,” Sam said, his voice suddenly sounding breathy. “Good porn. Very good porn. Jesus…”

Dean grinned contentedly and circled the nipple with the tip of his tongue. Sam sighed beautifully, digging his fingers into Dean’s back still protected by the soft fabric of the T-shirt Dean had put on together with soft sweatpants after he showered and had intended to sleep in it. He sucked the nipple one more time and then bit gently while his fingers played with the other nipple. Sam’s loud moan was cut off by his own hand pressed to his mouth.  

_Very good, Sammy, no one needs to hear us. Smart kid._

Sam wriggled when Dean moved his attention to the other nipple as well, sucking and biting, rocking his hips slightly into Dean’s as much as Dean’s weight on top of him allowed him. There was wet heat spreading from his crotch and Dean already knew what it meant. He lifted his hips from Sam’s, the action followed by a discontented growl.

“Well, well, what am I going to do with you?” he said playfully as he looked at the blot decorating the front of his sweatpants.

“Sorry,” Sam said in a low, husky voice, laced with lust.

Dean grinned. “No, you’re not.” He pressed a quick kiss to Sam’s lips. “I think I’m gonna blow you.”

Sam sighed and spread his legs wider as Dean kissed a path down his body. His knot was still small, but his cock was rock hard and leaking violently with the transparent precome.

Dean kissed the soft, sensitive belly, and stuck his tongue into the belly button. Sam mewled and trembled, his excitement attacking Dean’s senses in strong waves. He was hard himself, wanting nothing more than possess this beautiful creature squirming under him, wanting nothing less than be claimed.

But everything had its time. Dean took the tip of Sam’s cock into his mouth and sucked lightly. Sam shivered again and a moan escaped his throat, muffled by the hand covering his mouth. His breathing was ragged, and for a moment Dean was afraid Sam could cause himself tachyarrhythmia. But Sam was perfectly fine, floating in bliss when Dean curled his hand around his knot and his mouth sheathed Sam’s length. Sam gave a content sigh then, closing his eyes and letting himself indulge in the sensation of Dean’s tongue working on him.

Sam’s arousal was rushing with Dean’s blood right to his crotch, and Dean hoped that it wouldn’t take Sam long to come, because he was already struggling with his own cock demanding attention. Dean didn’t want to come before he had a chance to bury himself into his brother’s body, and even then he didn’t want to reach climax the very moment he was in.

With his hand in his sweatpants, he was stroking himself slowly, smearing the precome over his dick, imagining how would it feel inside his brother, how it had felt before. And maybe it wouldn’t be bad to come like this, with Sam’s cock down his throat. There would be enough time for proper sex later; now with him not leaving they had all the time in the world.

Dean sucked hard, making Sam whimper, before he licked down his lover’s length, capturing the knot between his teeth and bit gently. Even with both hands clasped to his mouth, Sam couldn’t completely muffle his excited cry. It felt like an electric shock for Dean’s body and he almost came into his pants. Sam was already a trembling mess, his body flexed and his legs spread wide.

_Here we go._

Dean licked the knot and sucked and bit again, pinning Sam to the mattress with both his hands, because Sam was writhing, sighing, moaning, biting his own hands in order to stop himself from crying out loud with pleasure. Dean opened his mouth as much as he could and took the knot in it, feeling how it was swelling.

Sam was close. So very much close and Dean knew he was not coming out of this unscathed himself. He bit harder and Sam almost choked himself on the fist in his mouth. He gave the last broken groan before his body tensed and he was coming, pearly-white come streaking his stomach while Dean pressed the heel of his hand hard to the base of his cock to prevent himself from reaching climax. He still hoped for some butt sex and, seeing Sam like this, he was sure that until he got his cock up again, Sam would be long blissfully oblivious to the world around.

Sam whined as the last wave of pleasure rippled through his body, his chocolate brown eyes finding Dean’s. He smiled lazily, his contentment filling the room, but Dean was not having it now. His need wasn’t satisfied so far and he was getting his reward now.

He pulled off the T-shirt and soaked sweatpants off of his body hastily and almost fell from the bed as he hurried to his jacket hanging from the door of a big cabinet. He reached into the inner pocket and pulled out the tube of lube he had there, and he didn’t care when the jacket fell down on the floor as his shaky hands pulled it involuntarily.

Dean was back in bed in no time, seated between Sam’s still spread legs. He slicked his fingers and pushed one into his lover’s body. Sam whined quietly, but he didn’t move.

Dean wanted to be gentle, but he was losing himself already. He didn’t wait until Sam’s body got used to the finger. He pushed two digits inside, earning an annoyed snarl.

Sam lifted himself on his elbows, his otherwise smooth brow creased. His dog ears were sticking to different directions and his claws were digging into the sheets under him.

“I can feel your impatience. Stop this nonsense and get in,” he growled.

“It was too long. I’ll hurt you,” Dean protested.

“You won’t. Don’t let me wait. You need me, I need you. End of discussion. Do it.”

Dean could argue that a little more time of preparation wouldn’t kill anyone, but he would have been lying, because each second of waiting was killing him.

“Fine,” he huffed and positioned between Sam’s legs. Sam moved his dog tail to the side so that it wasn’t in Dean’s way when he pushed in.

The world stopped. The endless months of grief were forgotten, all fears and doubts locked away from where they could do no harm anymore. This was a true reunion, the end of the long journey, the newly found home. Mist lifted and Dean could see clearly his task, his place in the world, his role in the course of life.

He was sliding in, slowly but uncompromisingly, the tight muscles giving in to the steady force stretching them. Sam was panting, but there was nothing talking about his discomfort or, God forgive Dean, pain. He was gripping Dean’s shoulders, his whole body trembling, and there was that little, cocky, satisfied smile that never left Dean cold. Dean wanted to taste it, to kiss it, and he covered Sam’s mouth with his own.

Sam chuckled into the kiss, the sound reverberating through their joined bodies.

“What’s so funny?” Dean asked, catching the tint of amusement in the flow of Sam’s emotions.

“Nothing.” Sam’s mouth stretched into a wide, toothy grin, the tips of his long canine teeth touching the lower lip lightly.

“Liar.” Oh, Dean knew some ways to wipe that sassy smile from Sam’s face. He pulled out slowly so that only the head of his cock stayed inside.

Sam sighed deliciously, the smile still present on his lips.

Dean thrust in with all he had. _You’re MINE._

Sam arched his back, whimpering, his claws digging into Dean’s back. He understood. He always understood. The smile was gone, playfulness disappeared from Sam’s featured completely, but it was exchanged by something else, something intense. Sam took Dean’s face in his hands and pulled down to grace Dean’s lips with a fierce, bruising kiss.

He moaned into Dean’s mouth as Dean thrust in again, attuning to the desperate, frantic rhythm. He needed it as much as Dean. His emotions flooded the whole room, filled Dean from head to toe. Sam bared his soul to his brother, opened his heart and let Dean see into the darkest corners where under all the love and hope worry and desperation were still hidden. And there was that wish, getting stronger with every Dean’s thrust, to be possessed, to be claimed, to never be left behind again. Sam showed Dean his greatest fear of losing what he thought was his greatest blessing, losing the bond the two of them shared, losing Dean to something bigger than the two of them.

Dean didn’t know how to take that fear away, because he was afraid of the same. He unfolded Sam’s arms from around his neck and pinned them down to the pillow on either side of his brother’s head. He slid his hands into Sam’s and their fingers entwined immediately.

Dean kissed Sam tenderly, tongue sweeping over the soft, wet lips, tasting, exploring, until it slid into the younger boy’s mouth. Dean tried to keep the passion at bay, there was time for it after this moment was over. Now he wanted Sam to know that as long as he was alive, Dean was going to fight for their bond. For them. And he wouldn’t let anyone get between them ever again.

Sam responded to Dean’s message with a quiet whimper and he kissed back, following Dean’s mouth as his brother wanted to pull away. Dean had to put his hand on Sam’s shoulder and push him back down on the sheets.

“It’s okay, puppy,” he said gently, then smiled and pecked the tip of Sam’s nose.

A pair of trusting hazel eyes fixed on him. “I know,” Sam whispered and relaxed. He snaked his hand down his body through the pearly and transparent mess on his belly to grip his knot.

Dean hooked Sam’s legs over his elbows and set a steady rhythm that suited both of them. They moved in a perfect harmony, their excited sighs echoing in the silence of the room even though they tried to stifle them. Dean was drowning in Sam’s love with every push and pull, slowly giving in to the pleasure until he felt the well-known tingling in his groin.

“Sammy,” he panted, and Sam listened to his call, covering Dean’s mouth with his hand.

Dean pressed into Sam’s palm, looking right into the beautiful hazel eyes in which Dean could see himself. That was the moment that threw him overboard. Luckily, his cry was muffled by Sam’s hand, but Dean’s orgasm had impact on his brother as well. Sam’s body flexed and a violent shiver ran through him, he tilted his head backwards, exposing his throat wet with sweat. His lips were parted and the beginning of a loud moan already left his mouth when Sam realized suddenly what he was doing. He let go of his knot immediately and clasped the now free hand over his treacherous mouth as Dean’s pleasure was rippling through his body, and his cock produced more sperm-free come that it should have after such a long time after Sam’s orgasm.

Dean slid in a couple more times before he pulled out of Sam’s body completely. Sam reached for him instantly.

“C’mere,” he breathed out and wound his arms around Dean’s shoulders, pulling him down.

“You’re a sticky mess,” Dean protested, but let himself to be manhandled.

“Shut up. Who’s responsible for that?” Sam growled, hooking his legs around Dean’s hips and pushing him down.

Dean settled comfortably on top of his brother, his lover, his world, his reason to live. “I don’t know. You?” he replied teasingly.

Sam huffed. “Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

They grinned at each other before Dean put his head on Sam’s shoulder and closed his eyes, happy and relaxed. Sam ran his fingers through his brother’s hair and delivered a small kiss on the crown of his head. Dean smiled and let Sam’s love lull him to sleep.

 


	21. Dean’s New Responsibility

 

He was so nice and comfortable that it felt wrong in so many levels when Pamela barged into the room in the morning. She froze on the spot at first, but she closed the door quickly and hissed at the two boys blinking the sleepiness away from their eyes, “Are you insane? With your father in the house?”

Sometime during the night they exchanged their positions, so Pamela had a great view at Sam’s naked ass. Dean felt a strong urge to cast the comforter over him to hide his nakedness (which was meant only for Dean’s eyes), but the problem was he was lying on it, so the only thing he could do was scowl at the intruder.

“He can go fuck himself,” he growled, folding his arm around Sam protectively.

“You, shut up,” Pamela said to him strictly, “and you,” her look slid to Sam who was gazing at her over his shoulder, “move your ass and get ready for the run.” With that she left the room.

Sam groaned in Dean’s shoulder and Dean stroked his back gently. “You don’t have to go.”

“I do,” Sam sighed. “I’m getting lazy.” He raised his head and looked at Dean. “Will you tell me what’s going on between you and Dad?”

Dean’s heart started beating faster, and he tried to calm it down. “Why do you think something’s going on?”

“You’re upset,” Sam said simply. “You were upset yesterday. It’s the same feeling. I didn’t know what was bugging you and you obviously weren’t going to tell me. But now Pamela mentioned Dad and you’re upset again.”

“It’s nothing you should be worried about,” Dean said lightly. “Dad only said that more subtlety wouldn’t hurt. That we’re too obvious, too vulnerable. And… you know… I just don’t like when someone tells me it’s not right to love you like this.” He shrugged, put his hand on the nape of Sam’s neck and pulled him closer to deliver a kiss on his forehead.

“Is that all?” Sam asked, nuzzling under Dean’s jaw.

“Sure, pup.” Dean tousled Sam’s hair and smiled. “You should get up if you’re serious about the run.”

Sam sighed, and rose from Dean’s body. In the next second a German shepherd jumped off the bed. He arched his back as he stretched his front legs, then he shifted his weight on the front paws and stretched his hind legs, at first one, then the other, and only then he moved to the door. Dean couldn’t stop the soft laughter as he watched his fluffy Protector. Sam looked over his shoulder and wagged his long tail, he opened his muzzle and gave Dean a fanged dog grin. Dean laughed even more and watched the dog jump on the door handle to open the door and slip out from the room.

Dean barely rolled on the bed and persuaded himself that it was time to get up when Sam was back, his annoyance rushing through Dean’s veins.

“What’s up?”

Sam changed into his human form. He shut the door behind himself maybe with more force than he wanted. When he turned to Dean, he was glaring, but Dean knew the murderous look wasn’t meant for him.

“She told me to stop pushing my luck, move my lazy ass, have a shower and get fucking dressed.”

“Huh, Dad, hm?” Dean commented dryly.

“He should finally get used to what I am, dammit! I might have been born like a human, but THIS is my true form,” Sam fumed.

Dean sighed and stood up. “Maybe she’s right. You seem to be on the same page now and Pam only wants to protect the peace in the house,” he said as he neared his brother still standing by the door.

Sam snorted. “ _You_ are our same page. We want you to get well, that’s the priority for both of us right now.”

“I am well,” Dean said, eyes locked with Sam’s. “I could go for the run with you, but he wouldn’t let me just now. However, I think he wouldn’t mind if _you_ stayed. And there’s this activity we can do together.” Dean’s voice was low, velvety, seducing. Sam stopped glaring and stared at his brother with wide eyes full of interest.

“Yes? What is it?” he asked, whispering, his chest heaving in a fast, excited rhythm.

“I think you know, so I’m not telling you,” Dean said, diminishing the little distance between them even more and pushing Sam against the door. “I can show you, though.”

The air in Sam’s lungs hitched and he pressed his back against the door. “Will it take long?” He swallowed even though his mouth was dry.

Dean shook his head. “Just a few minutes, but you won’t have time for the run after it.”

“I can live with that,” Sam said, watching Dean’s mouth so close to his. “But I’m afraid we’ll be in a big trouble.”

“We’re already in trouble.” Dean reached for the key in the lock and turned it. “You can say I distracted you.”

“Everyone will know how you managed that.”

“So be it,” Dean said in that sexy voice and locked their mouths together. Sam could only reciprocate.

He wasn’t stupid not to notice something was up since the other day. Dean’s emotions were on a constant rollercoaster, his moods changed frequently and his possessiveness became too strong for Sam to keep his head clear. He was intoxicated. But even through the haze of lust for which was mostly Dean responsible, he was able to realize that Dean was following some goal and Sam had a strong suspicion that he was concerned from a huge part. He was just afraid to ask.

Dean put his hands on Sam’s hips and when their mouths parted finally, he turned Sam around. “Stay like this. Don’t move,” he whispered the order into Sam’s ear, and Sam obeyed. Dean meanwhile returned to the bed hastily to look for the lube. He found it on the floor next to his sweatpants.

He returned to Sam with a triumphant grin. The younger Winchester was standing by the door with his forearms resting on the wood and his forehead pressed to them. He was absolutely motionless, waiting. Dean looked him up and down, followed every curve of his tall, lanky body, smiled at the thought of the last night when Sam had been so pliant under his hands.

Dean ran his hand down Sam’s side, worshipping the beauty in front of him. Sam inhaled and raised his head, turning it in order to have a look at his big brother. Dean pressed his chest to Sam’s back, wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist and giving him a deep kiss.

There wasn’t time to waste. Dean let go of Sam for a moment to slick his fingers. He caressed Sam’s back with the other hand while he let the lubed one slide between the cheeks of Sam’s ass, finding out his lover was still beautifully open from the last night. Dean grinned and slipped his two fingers inside, moving them in and out in order to prepare Sam for his cock. The truth was Sam didn’t need much preparation, which suited Dean’s plan perfectly. He coated his half-hard dick with lube and pushed in, getting inside easily. Sam gave a broken sigh and stood still.

Dean slid in the whole way, stroking Sam’s side and back appreciatively. He gave Sam (absolutely unnecessary) time to get used to Dean’s cock up his ass and meanwhile Dean started his exploration. He moved his hands to Sam’s chest, running them to his nipples and down to his belly, he caressed his flanks and moved to the thighs, and then touched Sam’s cock. It was already hard, but it wasn’t leaking and even the knot was small. Good. That was what Dean needed. He concentrated on Sam’s emotions, and under the thick layers of Sam’s love he found the arousal but also fear of being discovered. Dean tried not to think about that one. He put is hands over Sam’s heart beating in a frantic rhythm. Sam was waiting for Dean’s excitement and pleasure to take over him soon. The anticipation was strong and Dean really regretted that he couldn’t fulfill it. Sam mustn’t come if Dean could prevent it. It wouldn’t have ruined Dean’s plans, but it would have put him into the most awkward situation.

Dean needed to stay cool and not let the basic instinct to take over him. It was hard to hide things from Sam when the bitch could feel every shift in Dean’s emotions and there wasn’t much to hang onto. He couldn’t concentrate even on his pleasure because that would just have pushed Sam in the direction Dean wanted to prevent him to go. No, this wasn’t sex for pleasure. This was sex with a purpose. Only no one was supposed to know it, not even Sam. Therefore Dean tried to miss Sam’s prostate every time he pushed in.

Of course, he couldn’t hide everything from Sam. There was too much of it.

“D-Dean?” Sam called his name, confusion both sounding in his voice and leaking from his every cell. He turned his head so that he could look at Dean.

“It’s okay, puppy,” Dean said soothingly, because, really, was there anything else he could say? He kissed Sam to silence him, then he slid his lips to Sam’s neck, forcing a beautiful sigh out of him, while he gripped his hips firmer. Even Dean was just a human and as much as he tried, he couldn’t just stop being aroused when he just had sex with the most amazing being in the whole universe. The being that loved him more than anything. Even for the best Warrior such a love was almost impossible. Dean knew he wanted too much and that everything could go wrong in so many levels.

Suddenly Sam froze and panic pierced through the ball of his feelings. “Someone’s coming.”

Dean didn’t stop moving, but he listened intently to the sounds from behind the door.

“Dean!” Sam whispered in a panicky voice.

“Shhh, puppy. It’s okay. The door’s locked,” Dean said calmly, but his heart was beating fast.

Steps in the corridor, nearing the door of they’re room.

“Sam? What are you doing? Hurry up!” It was Pamela’s voice.

Sam looked over his shoulder at Dean, who gave him a sign to be quite while still thrusting in. The danger of being revealed aroused him even more. Sam gave a muffled sigh, but Dean could feel how he was struggling against the rush of excitement. _Excellent._

“Sam! Do you hear me?” The door handle moved, but the door stayed securely closed.

Sam pressed against Dean’s chest. “We should stop.”

“Not yet,” Dean whispered into Sam’s skin and continued in his action.

“Dean…” Sam’s voice was breaking.

Dean snaked his hand to Sam’s front and checked the state of his cock. Sam was half-hard, but still not leaking fortunately.

“Give us a minute!” he called, and Sam stiffened.

“Are you crazy?” the younger Winchester hissed.

“It’s all right. I’ll handle it,” Dean said in a tone he hoped sounded encouraging.

“What are you two doing? It’s late, hurry up!”

“Okay,” Dean called back, his voice breathy. Obvious.

Sam squirmed, big, confused eyes fixed on Dean.

There was silence for a moment on the other side of the door, and then a careful voice asked. “Dean, you’re not doing what I think you’re doing, are you?”

“Depends on what you think we’re doing,” Dean replied, sassiness in his voice, his eyes locked with Sam’s.

“Are you suicidal!?” Pamela hissed, her voice low but still easy for Sam and Dean behind the door to catch it.

Dean pushed in one more time and more forcefully than before, making Sam’s hips hit the door. “Maybe.”

“Dean,” Sam whimpered, fear lacing his voice. He knew they were in deep trouble and for some reason, Dean was pushing it even farther.

The steps of a new pair of feet sounded in the corridor. “What’s up?” John’s voice pierced the tense silence.

Sam shivered, true panic rising within him. He wanted to stop. Now. He wanted to shift and hide under the bed or in the closet or anywhere possible. He just didn’t want Dad to be standing right behind the door against which Sam was pressed with Dean thrusting into him without a break. Jesus, with what brain cell had he been thinking when he had agreed with this? Oh, right, Dean’s brain cell… or more like cock cell. Damn the emotion infiltration!

“Dean, stop it,” he begged and hoped his brother would listen to him.

“Sammy, it’ll be all right, promise, okay?” Dean said gently, kissing Sam’s shoulder. But Sam couldn’t concentrate on anything else than Dad’s voice from behind the door.

“Boys! What’s up?”

Dean stayed quite this time, his cock buried deep in Sam’s ass, but he wasn’t moving anymore, so Sam could finally catch his breath.

“Dean, please. This is not right,” he begged again, his head tilted backwards and resting on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean hugged him gently. “Listen, puppy,” he spoke quietly into Sam’s ear. “It’s really okay, but I need you to trust me. It’s important.”

Sam breathed out heavily. “It’s Dad behind that door, Dean,” he said with urge, and a shiver of panic ran up his body. “Please, Dean…”

Dean didn’t reply to that, so Dad’s commands to open the freaking door got to Sam more effectively. There was also banging on the hardwood, which startled Sam even more. He could easily imagine his or Dean’s face under those fists. If Dad found out, if he _understood_ what was going on in the room, they both were as good as dead.

Dean’s hands were on Sam’s hips again and Sam almost begged one more time for Dean to stop this nonsense when he felt his brother to withdraw from his body. He gave a sigh of relief, but there were Dean’s hands again, turning him around and pressing to that door that was the only barrier between them and the pissed-off Dad.

Dean was fully on him, chest to chest, and he was gripping Sam’s hands, making him feel the steel determination. Determination to do what? Sam had no idea and he was even afraid to know.

“Sammy, look at me,” Dean commanded in a soft but firm voice. Sam met his gaze, but it was hard for him not to look away. Dean was confusing him and pushing into the situation Sam was scared of finding himself in.

“Sammy… Puppy… Do you really think I would consciously want to hurt you?” Dean asked, his voice low, painful.

Sam bit his lip, and then shook his head. No, Dean didn’t want to hurt him. But he wanted something else which Sam couldn’t understand. “Why all this?” he asked shakily.

“You’ll find out soon,” Dean said and pecked Sam’s lips. “I love you. Now go put something on you.” He let go of Sam who made a beeline for the closet.

“I need a shower!” Sam growled, giving way to his anger. He barely had time to find clean boxers and put them on when Dean, who had pulled on his jeans, walked to the door from behind furious commands to fucking open up were coming. He glanced at Sam over his shoulder as he reached for the key.

Sam’s eyes widened. “What are you doing!?” he squeaked, but there was nowhere to hide in such a short time.

Dean unlocked the door and stepped back just in time to avoid John bumping into him as he burst inside.

“What the hell???” John scanned the room with a trained eye and took a deep breath. His face contorted in absolute fury, and Sam wished nothing else than flee. Or vanish in thin air. Or die. Everything was better than facing John’s wrath. He stepped back, hitting the closet with his back. He thought about hiding among the clothes inside. He was scared to the very core and the worst thing was that he didn’t even know why Dean had let it go so far. He couldn’t help it, but he felt betrayed. By someone whom he trusted unconditionally…

Dean on the other hand was standing there, tall and proud, back straight, chin high, the look of his eyes direct. There was tension in his shoulders, Sam could see it, but it was just talking about Dean being ready for action. What action Sam was afraid to think about.

Behind John Pamela was standing, her eyes finding Sam’s. She shook her head slightly as if she wanted to say ‘You fools’, but her lips were pursed, and she was angry, too.

Sam looked away quickly, noticing the third figure in the doorway. Bobby. His expression was unreadable, and that was what hit Sam most. They brought Bobby in trouble… What fucking idiots they were…

His attention shifted back to John and Dean, two opponents, two soldiers, and neither of them wanted to capitulate without a fight. Chill ran up Sam’s spine when he realized what Dean was doing. Why he was doing it. Emotions welled inside of him, hot tears filling his eyes. _I love you, too, you idiot, but why do you have to do it like this?_

He noticed a light shiver in Dean’s limbs and he knew his brother caught the message.

“You fucked your brother,” John said slowly, the look of his eyes flicking to Sam.

“Yes.” Dean’s voice was steady, firm and calm.

Sam knew he should have expected that, but the collision of the heavy hand with Dean’s cheek knocked the air out of him. It felt like he was the one having been hit. He gasped and growled menacingly, baring his sharp dog teeth. No one was hurting his Warrior!

Before John could come to teach him a lesson, Dean turned to him, hand raised in a warning gesture. “Don’t mix!”

It was an order. By a Warrior given to his Protector. Sam shut his mouth and watched. In his peripheral sight he could see Pamela’s shock and Bobby’s face become more somber.

Dean turned back to John with challenge in his eyes. There was a big red mark where the hand hit him and it must have hurt like a bitch, but it seemed the pain gave Dean more courage. Sam would have sworn there wasn’t a bit of fear in him at that moment. Just bravery that Sam admired.

John glared at Dean, but even he could see that physical punishment did nothing to his eldest. Only maybe made him more resilient. "Pack," he barked in the end, ready to turn around and leave the room. “You have five minutes.”

"No," sounded Dean’s clear voice into the heavy silence in the room.

"What?" Sam could see Dad’s confusion. He wasn’t used to Dean disobeying his orders.

"You heard me,” Dean said in the same tone full of icy calmness. “I’m not leaving. I’m staying with Sam. My place is by his side.”

The fire in John’s eyes diminished a bit, but he didn’t look any less predatory when he stepped closer to Dean, who didn’t move a bit.

"If Sam ever gets hurt because of you, I’ll hunt you down.”

“If Sam ever gets hurt because of me, I’ll wait for you. But I promise, both you and Sam, that I’ll do anything what’s in my power to prevent it.” Dean replied. His voice didn’t even waver. He was so sure of himself – Sam’s brother, his Warrior and Protector, his best friend, his lover, his world. Sam’s heart swelled with pride and love.

“I’ll hold you to that promise,” John said, his voice icy for change. He glanced at Sam before he turned around and left the room.

Pamela sized the boys up, then shook her head. “Idiots. Air the room at least.” With that she left as well.

At last, the tension in the air loosened a bit and Sam took a deep breath. Even Dean was breathing more freely. It was only Bobby’s expression that troubled Sam now.

“Get a shower, Sam,” Bobby said emotionlessly. “When you get dressed, come down for the breakfast. Then I’ll take you to school. And you, Dean,” Bobby looked around, “make yourself useful and tidy up the mess here.”

“At least he’s okay,” Dean said when they were left alone finally.

“I’m not so sure,” Sam replied as he looked for his towel from yesterday on the floor. He found it under the bed in the end.

When he straightened up, Dean was in his personal space, but he didn’t try to touch Sam. “How about you?” he asked in a low voice. “I thought you’d be pissed. You were…”

Sam sighed. “I was. But then I understood and… You’re not leaving me anymore, right?” He gave Dean a shy smile which was returned.

“No, pup, I’m not leaving you _ever._ ” Dean put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, and Sam could feel his brother’s relief. His smile widened and so did Dean’s. Dean patted Sam’s cheek. “Go to the shower, puppy.”

Sam grinned and when he found clean clothes, he hurried out from the room. As he closed the door behind himself, the smile disappeared from Dean’s lips. He moved to the window and peeked out, seeing Dad just getting in his truck. The man was furious, it was obvious, and Dean only hoped he wouldn’t do anything stupid. Dean didn’t want to be responsible for anything that could befall John when he was pissed like this.

Dean waited until John drove away and only then he opened the window to air the heavy smell of sweat and sex. He had won a battle. But had he won the war as well? Anyway, Dean knew that John understood that what he had done here with Sam was his answer to John’s request. John would have been deaf to words, but actions always talked to him clearly. The more radical those actions were, the more persuasive they seemed to be.

Dean took his turn in the shower after Sam and then went downstairs for breakfast. The tense atmosphere in the kitchen, accompanied by the feeling of Sam’s unease, lifted a little as he stepped inside. Pamela’s glance was friendlier than Dean would ever have expected, and even though she didn’t talk to him, he got an extra toast with bacon for breakfast. On the other hand, she looked mad at his little brother.

“You done?” Bobby appeared in the doorway after some time.

“Yeah.” Sam pushed his empty plate away.

“All right. I’ll wait for you in the car.”

Bobby left and Sam stood up from his chair. His fingers brushed Dean’s arm as he was leaving the kitchen, looking for peace in his brother’s presence. Dean quickly finished his breakfast and hurried after Sam. He met him in the hall ready to leave, the school bag hanging from his shoulder.

“Hey.” Dean curled his hand around Sam’s wrist. Sam looked at him, anticipation visible in his face. Dean put his other hand on Sam’s cheek and kissed him fondly. “For a good day.”

Sam smiled, his eyes shining. “It already is. Well… Mostly.”

Dean grinned. “All right. See ya later.” He pushed Sam in the door’s direction gently.

Sam adjusted the bag hanging from his shoulder and as he reached the door, he threw the last look at Dean over his shoulder. “Good day to you too.”

He left the house with a grin, but as he noticed Bobby’s somber expression, his smile faded. He got into the car and fastened his seatbelt (Bobby always said they didn’t need to attract attention). Bobby started and the car moved, taking Sam away from His Everything. He sighed quietly, listening to the purring (or more like coughing) of the old engine and attuning to Dean’s location. He was already so good in it that he could keep the connection all day long without being distracted.

There was heavy silence in the car, although Sam had a feeling there was something on Bobby’s mind. Sam chanced a glance at the hunter, but Bobby was hypnotizing the road in front of them. Sam bit his lip and looked away as well.

“You’re mad,” he said after a few strained seconds. He would have preferred Bobby telling him off to being this quiet.

“No, I’m not mad,” Bobby responded, but his tone was heavy. “I’m more like… disappointed. I think that describes it better. I just still can’t decide whether I’m disappointed in you two equally or more in Dean.”

Sam stared, perplexed. “Why in Dean?” He wasn’t used to be blamed less than his brother for anything the two of them did together. Usually, Sam was given most of the blame (in Dad’s case) or he and Dean shared the same blame (in Bobby’s case).

“How to put that…” Bobby still avoided looking at Sam. “You Protectors are very simple in your core. And predictable. What you value most is courage. The slightest show of bravery and you’re wetting your pants. Don’t take me wrong, I know it was damn hard for Dean to oppose your father like he did, and I know that you and Pamela admire him for that, but that’s exactly why I’m disappointed in him. If he didn’t want you to mix between him and John, he shouldn’t have used you like he did. He shoulda found another way. He coulda tried to talk to him for example. I woulda backed him up.”

“Maybe there wasn’t another way,” Sam said quietly to Dean’s defense.

Bobby snorted. “Exactly what I expected you to say… Don’t let yourself be fooled, Sam. Use your head.”

Sam squirmed in his seat and said nothing.

“The idjit ain’t stupid. He knew perfectly well what he was doing and that bothers me. He went too far, he most likely meant to, but I still can’t get over the fact that he involved you into the foolishness. He had no right to do so.”

 _He had the very right,_ Sam thought, but better kept his mouth shut.

The rest of the journey they spent in silence, which wasn’t as tense and uncomfortable as before. Bobby wished Sam a good day before he dropped him at school, and the day turned out to be pretty much fine in the end. Sam expected Bobby to pick him up, but this time it was Dean who came. His big grin greeted Sam as the younger boy slipped into the Impala.

“Hey, pup, how was your day?” Dean’s cheerfulness was contagious, but also surprising in a way.

“Not bad. Yours?”

Dean only sniggered at Sam’s question and his suspicious look. “Not bad either.”

“Did you get the talk?”

“What talk?” The grin disappeared and was exchanged by crinkles on Dean’s brow.

“With Bobby,” Sam explained.

“Oh, that talk… I did.”

“And?” Sam held his breath as he was watching Dean, who was watching the road.

“Wasn’t as bad as I feared. We mostly talked about what now,” Dean said and glanced at Sam. “Stop staring otherwise your eyes will fall out of your sockets. And breathe. The kiss of life I would be forced to give you could be interpreted in a wrong way.”

Sam frowned. “Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“So what now? What did you talk about?” Sam asked curiously.

“About my contribution to the household,” Dean said lightly.

“Huh?”

“Well… since I’ve become its member today, I should take over some responsibilities, right?”

“What responsibilities?”

Dean glanced at Sam again. “You,” he said and his tone was serious. “I’m gonna train you, take you to school, pick you up from school, help you with homework, but I wouldn’t rely on myself in this point if I were you, make sure you eat properly and sleep enough, and watch over your well-being. Simply, I’m gonna take care of you.”

Sam blinked. “Bobby told you all of this.”

“Yeah, somewhere along the lines about finding a job, going shopping, buying ammo, and other stuff.”

A huge grin split Sam’s face. “You know, we’re lucky to have him.”

“You know, I’ve known it for years,” Dean said and stepped on gas as they left the town and got on the highway.

 


	22. A Wonderful, Painful Life

 

Bobby didn’t treat them differently than usual, obviously he cooled down during the day. He recommended the boys to take the training easy, so Dean trained shooting from a crossbow and then from a shotgun with Sam as long as it wasn’t physically strenuous. They decided to leave the mental training for the next week, with which Pamela highly approved. Then Dean left Sam do his homework while he polished his guns. Pamela didn’t join them for the evening run, not because she didn’t want to, but because there was a new rule according which Sam’s runs were the part of Dean’s responsibilities, so if they wanted her there, all they needed to do was ask. They didn’t. After they took the turns in the shower, they spent some time cuddled to each other in front of the TV before they went to sleep.

The next day wasn’t much different. The morning run, school, training, homework, the evening run and a little bit of fun, bed. The life in the salvage yard fell into a pleasant routine. Sam didn’t even notice when Pamela disappeared for a few days to pursue her own errands or Bobby went to help his friend Rufus with the latest hunt. Sam’s world revolved around Dean, and Dean was the only one who mattered.

Sam wondered when Dean’s Warrior spirit would awaken and Dean would tell him he needed a fight. He knew the moment would come sooner or later and he hoped Dean would allow Sam to accompany him to become the Protector he wanted to be. But Dean showed no sign of restlessness. He polished his guns and sharpened knives, grated wooden stakes, stole chalks blessed by holy water from the local church and all in all made sure the contents of the trunk of his car was in a perfect state. He fixed what needed a repair, he spent a lot of time checking the Impala for possible damages before he let Sam drive it.

It was one of the few best days of Sam’s life. He didn’t have much experience with driving, and ever since he got his driving license he got behind the wheel maybe once or twice, so he was nervous he could do something to Dean’s beloved car, but, on the other hand, he was excited. Dean decided that the kid needed practice, and so they ended up on a road winding over the land, and Dean, sitting in the passenger seat and grinning like an idiot, his eyes shining with pride, had enough patience for his little brother and enough trust into his driving skills to make Sam’s nervousness dissipate. Sam didn’t know where they were going and Dean obviously didn’t care; the drive was the goal, not the destination.

When they returned, the house was empty. Dean brought two bottles of beer, handing one to Sam, who only raised his eyebrow.

“You’re old enough,” Dean said with a shrug. “One beer won’t hurt you. And if you get drunk by chance, bed’s not far and you have me to get you there.”

They grinned at each other, the necks of the bottles clanked, and they drank the beer and talked about life and hunts and many little, unimportant things from the joy of talking to each other, to be together, to enjoy the closeness.

The life was peaceful, nice, finally painless and colorful. There was no rush in anything they did, no urgency Sam remembered from Dean’s visits when there had been no guarantee he would be still there when Sam returned from school. Desperation disappeared even from their bed. When they made love, it wasn’t about getting as much as they could anymore. The hunger to explore each other’s body and worship it like something sacred, to try new things and learn as much as they could to please one another stayed, but now they took their time. But those moments weren’t just about sating body needs and looking for closeness, or (God help them!) about possessing and claiming. It was about connection, about their souls merging and forging the bond stronger than any metal. It was about finding the other half and becoming one entity. When Sam knotted Dean and they were unable to part for some time, it felt like the manifestation of the mutual feeling. Dean couldn’t understand how anyone could think that their relationship was wrong.

Autumn turned into winter and Christmas knocked on the door. Sam couldn’t wait for the winter break to spend more time with Dean and to not have to care about school work. Ever since Dean took the responsibility for Sam, no one scolded them if they missed training or didn’t get up on time for the morning run, and Dean understood that if Sam failed in anything because he was too soft on him, it was completely his fault. Usually Sam listened to everything Dean wanted from him, but there were couple of times when they chose to not do anything and relax instead. And because such times were rare, they cherished them.

Sam didn’t expect Dean to give up on training during the break, but Dean had different things in mind than drilling Sam the many ways to kill monsters or practice shooting and fighting with him. They practiced their mental abilities, but what started as a serious training, maybe more pleasant than the physical one, but still a training, ended up as a teasing game when both of them peppered the flows of their emotions with want and passion. They made love that night.

Dean knew John kept calling regularly, but it was always Bobby talking to him and the hunter never told the boys what John talked about. They didn’t care. But Bobby seemed to have enough that crap, because the day before Christmas they caught him growling into the phone that Sam was doing perfect and if it interested John even slightest, Dean was doing just fine too. That moment Dean’s mood changed rapidly and it took Sam a lot of effort to bring a smile back on Dean’s lips. Yet, he couldn’t make that feeling of disappointment disappear, and he started blaming Dad again. Even when the guy wasn’t there, his shadow was still looming over them, destroying their happiness.

“Sammy, don’t. We’re okay. We’ll be okay. With Dad or without. All right?” Dean took Sam’s face in his hands and looked right into his eyes, giving Sam no chance to escape.

“Fine,” Sam said with a heavy sigh.

Dean gave him a strict look. “Promise?”

Sam wriggled, but Dean’s grip on him didn’t loosen. “He makes you upset.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s only because I spent a lot of time with him. Now I’m here with you. And right now I’m upset because you are upset.”

Sam gazed for a while, thinking about Dean’s words. “If I’m happy, you’ll be happy, too?” he asked naively.

“Damn straight.”

Sam smiled a little. “Okay.”

Dean kissed him lovingly before he let him go.

They knew that their promise was a lie, but denying it was the best way that worked for both of them. When they didn’t think about it, everything was perfect again.

Only that another kick came the very next day. A Christmas present from John was delivered to Sam. It was a book, a novel from Neil Gaiman, something Sam would have read with pleasure… if only Dean had gotten his present, too. Sam put the book on the bottom of his closet, determined to forget everything about it. Dean was pretending he didn’t care, but he couldn’t hide from Sam how much Dad’s indifference hurt him.

After the Christmas dinner they all chilled out in the living room, drinking beer and listening to the radio. No one cared about the presents, everyone was satisfied as they were, enjoying each other’s presence. The atmosphere was comfortable and when Sam looked around, his heart was swelling with the purest happiness of finally having his little pack together without the threat hanging above his head of losing the comfort of the completeness of this weird family circle. And when he snuggled up to Dean, nuzzling under his jaw from time to time and finding himself in a fond embrace, the world couldn’t be more perfect.

They stayed up until the late night hour. It was Pamela who first decided to turn in. She winked at the boys cuddling on the couch and left the room before they could wish her good night. Bobby stayed only as long as it took him to finish his beer.

“You two behave, all right?” he said with more cheerfulness than they had ever heard from him, giving them a meaningful look indicating that if they were up to certain things, they should better take them to their bedroom.

Once alone, Dean kissed Sam tenderly, letting him know through the touch how much Sam meant to him. Sam purred and slipped his hand under Dean’s shirt, caressing the naked skin.

“Are we going to take this to the bedroom?” he asked, his mouth just inches from Dean’s.

Dean chuckled and shook his head. “Not yet.” He pushed Sam away gently and crossed the few paces toward the small Christmas tree in a corner of the room decorated by the few Christmas balls Bobby found in his basement and car fresheners Sam and Dean had bought more for fun than for real decorating. He took one of the packages and brought it to Sam. “I want you to open this before we go to bed,” he said, his tone serious.  

Sam took the package; it was quite heavy. “What is it?”

“Open it.”

Dean sat down next to Sam and watched him tear off the paper and reveal a simple wooden box. Sam opened it carefully and found a pistol. He looked at Dean, speechless.

“I know you don’t like shooting,” Dean started in a low voice, “but in our profession, it’s necessary. And you’re good, Sammy. Really good. You deserve a proper gun. So I figured it’s time for you to have your own forty-five.”

“Thank you,” Sam said, not sure how he felt about it. He didn’t like guns and he never wanted one of his own. But this one was from Dean.

He sat there with the box on his knees and gazed at the gun, not even thinking about taking it into his hands. There were protecting symbols carved into the dark wooden grips, the cold metal polished shiny. Oddly, despite Sam’s dislike for guns, this present felt much less impersonal than the one from Dad. There was a thought behind it, a purpose, a journey as he guessed, and it was the same type as Dean’s, a Colt, as far as Sam could tell; there was also research, a lot of additional work, and knowledge.

“Who carved it?” he asked after a few long minutes.

“I did. Bobby introduced me to a guy who specializes in such handworks, so he helped me with details and did the final adjustments so that it looked good, but mostly it’s my work,” Dean answered, his tone guarded so that his insecurity didn’t bleed into it. Sam still could feel it through the touch of their bodies as they sat side by side on the couch.

“It’s beautiful. You’re skillful,” Sam acknowledged, lifting his eyes from the pistol and looking at Dean, whose face took a pinkish shade and lips quirked in an awkward smile.

“Thanks. I hoped you’d like it.”

“I do,” Sam assured him.

Dean’s smile widened and he leaned closer to deliver a small kiss on Sam’s temple. “I’d been thinking about it for some time,” he said more confidently. “I wanted to give it to you for your sixteenth birthday, but I couldn’t find quite what I wanted.”

“And this is it?”

“Yeah, this is it.” Dean pressed closer, excitement tinting his voice. “It’s the same as mine, a Colt M1911A1. Perfect shape, perfect balance of components, very precise. The perfect handgun,” he continued, his fingers ghosting just above the waistband of Sam’s jeans. “Dad knew what I was planning and he approved.”

“So he knows?”

“Yes. Actually, the idea with the carving was his. I wanted to personalize the gun when he came up with this. The symbols were my idea. You’re a Protector, so I thought they were accurate… But there is one that has nothing to do with protecting spells.” Dean’s eyes were fixed on Sam, expectation flowing into Sam’s body.

Sam gave in. He could hardly ever resist Dean’s wishes. Maybe he should work on it. But not today. Today he needed Dean happy, so he reached into the box and took the gun out. It felt cold in his hands, not his, and still too precious… He ran his fingers over the grips, feeling every line of the carvings under them, looking for the thing Dean was talking about until he noticed it.

“Is the thing in one of the sigils?” he asked.

“Yep.” Dean smiled. “It’s a dog.”

“Looks more like a cat.”

Dean blinked, but then he noticed Sam’s roguish smile.

“Bitch.”

Sam chuckled and went right for Dean’s mouth to apologize for his teasing with a sweet kiss. When it was over, he didn’t pull away, but pressed his forehead to Dean’s.

“I’m glad that Bobby and Pamela are finally okay with us,” he whispered, inhaling the air Dean had just breathed out. “With our relationship, I mean. With what we do in the bedroom and out of it.”

Dean put a hand on Sam’s thigh. “You’ve already reached the age when they can hardly try to forbid you that. We would’ve given a damn, anyway.”

“True,” Sam admitted and his mouth connected with Dean’s one more before he pulled away. He looked at the pistol, unable to come to terms with the fact that it belonged to him, and wanted to put it back into the box when Dean stopped him.

“Try how it fits into your hand. I want to see it.”

It wasn’t what Sam wanted. He didn’t want to connect with the gun. But he didn’t want to disappoint Dean, so he put the wooden box away as he took the pistol into his hand properly and aimed in front of himself. It really seemed to be a good gun, but to be sure he needed to try it at first.

“Careful, it’s loaded,” Dean said softly.

Sam put the gun down immediately. “What? Why?”

“’Coz I tested it and then decided there was no point in leaving the magazine empty.”

Sam put the pistol back into its box. Dean watched him carefully until he spoke again.

“We’ll try it tomorrow. What do you say?”

Sam turned to Dean with a smile. “Sure.” He kissed his brother once again before he pulled away with a big smile, his eyes shining. “I have something for you, too.” He jumped up from the couch and hurried to the Christmas tree, his movements much less graceful than usual. Dean grinned as he watched him. Too long legs and too long arms sometimes took from Sam’s elegance, but made him much more interesting and beautiful in some way. Sam was truly the most amazing being Dean had ever seen.

“Here,” Sam was back, putting a small package into Dean’s hands. He flopped back on the couch next to his brother, pressing into him, eagerness rushing through his system right into Dean’s. “It’s not as amazing as the pistol…”

“So you think the pistol was amazing?” Dean asked, more making fun than meaning his question. He knew Sam didn’t like his present as much as Dean wished he would have, but, surprisingly, it wasn’t even as bad as Dean had thought it would be. He knew that Sam and guns didn’t really make an equation, but it was a necessity.

“Of course,” Sam said with a smile, and Dean half expected him climb into his lap.

Dean smiled. Maybe Sam wasn’t lying. It was hard to tell when everything he could feel right now was the overwhelming excitement of the eager puppy.

“Open it,” Sam said, nuzzling Dean’s jaw and obviously ready to tear the paper himself if Dean was not going to do it any time soon.  

“All right! All right! Dork,” Dean said with a chuckle and almost burst into real laughter when he noticed Sam’s tail poking out of the boy’s jeans and waving in the air. He pecked the tip of Sam’s nose before he proceeded to opening his Christmas present.

A black leather bracelet with a silver pendant attached to it fell into his hand. “What is it?” he asked and studied the pendant. “A wolf?”

Sam pouted. “It’s a dog.”

“A dog, of course. I can see it now,” Dean said with a smile as he turned to Sam.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it.” Dean’s eyes never left Sam’s face as he handed him the bracelet and held out his right hand for him to fasten the thing around his wrist.

Sam smiled shyly as he took the bracelet and did what he was expected.

“Thanks,” Dean said with a broad grin and took Sam’s face in his hands, the silver wolf/dog dangling on the bracelet as he moved, and kissed Sam sinfully. Sam moaned into Dean’s mouth, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Dean captured them in his and when he pulled away, he said with a gentle smile, “I’m tired, Sammy. Let’s go to sleep.”

“Okay,” Sam replied, and Dean didn’t feel a bit of the disappointment he expected kind of automatically.

They cuddled to each other in bed, Sam’s head rested on Dean’s chest and he listened to his big brother’s steady heartbeat lulling him to sleep. Dean was caressing Sam’s back until he put his hand on Sam’s hip, letting the mix of emotions of his little brother flow through him freely and bring peace into his troubled heart.

Dean would rather have died than admitted it even in the deepest corner of his heart, but Dad’s indifference toward him hurt him much more than he would ever have expected.

The next day they trained shooting from Sam’s new gun. With Dean being his tutor and the gun given from Dean, the training was much more fun. Sam liked it. He even liked the gun. And he had to admit that Dean’s choice was truly a good one. It was relatively light and precise, and Sam didn’t miss even once.

Dean was proud. And turned on. After the training, he blew Sam in their jeep, and when his teeth scraped over his brother’s knot, Sam was literally losing his mind. The knot was a strong erogenous zone and Dean promised to himself to use this knowledge as often as he could.

Sam came twice. When he was reaching his second climax, Dean was so hard that he was sure that if he didn’t bury his cock into Sam any time soon, with Sam’s orgasm he would come into his pants. He tore off the jeans and underwear from his brother’s body, too impatient to bother with any gentleness. There was already too much come he could use as lubricant, and even Sam was too eager and too willing to feel his brother inside, and who was Dean to deny him that wish? The preparation was fast and short, too little to really get Sam’s body prepared, but thanks to regular sex he wasn’t so tight, and Dean slipped inside rather easily.

That was the moment when Sam couldn’t take it anymore and came hard, shouting Dean’s name. Dean almost came himself, but managed to postpone the orgasm a little longer, but after a few thrusts into Sam’s beautiful, lean body, he lost it as well.

“Jeez, Sammy, you’re killing me,” Dean said when he sank on Sam’s body, his head resting against Sam’s breastbone.

Sam was still panting, his chest heaving in a quick rhythm, but he wound his arms around Dean nevertheless, pressing him close and not letting him go.

The air in the jeep was getting cold again and after some time Sam loosened his grip and squirmed. “My ass is freezing,” he announced in a low voice.

“All right,” Dean heaved from his brother’s body. “We don’t want you to catch cold, do we?”

“I doubt I can catch cold,” Sam said with a grin and sat up. “Where’re my pants?”

“Here.” Dean handed him the jeans and underwear.

“Thanks.” Sam pulled the two pieces of clothing on. “I need a shower,” he said with a grimace.

“And clean clothes.” Dean studied his come-stained shirt.

Sam laughed. “Let’s hope we won’t meet Pam or Bobby on our way back to the house.

They weren’t that lucky. Pamela rolled her eyes when she saw them and Bobby shook his head and send them right to the shower.

Later in the afternoon Bobby put a big, heavy Christmas present into Dean’s hands, which made Sam ecstatic. He was grinning almost the whole time as though it was him getting the present.

“Why are you so giddy?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.

Sam only shrugged and grinned even more. Bobby, whose attention Sam’s excitement couldn’t escape, had a quite a good hunch what it could be. Sam would have given Dean the whole world to patch the hole in Dean’s heart John managed to rip open so effectively. Any present from people Dean loved and cared about counted. There was a message in each of them, ‘We love you’, ‘We care about you’, ‘You’re an important part of our family’. It was an acknowledgment of Dean’s role in the lives of the others.

Dean opened the present, finding a new big, heavy book about army firearms. He thanked politely and started flipping through the pages. He wasn’t the type who read a lot and he didn’t have much time for it, either, unless he did research. But this one caught his attention.

And so did Sam’s. While Dean was waiting for Sam to join him in the room after he showered, he was lying on the bed on his stomach and reading the book. Sam came in no more than fifteen minutes later. He crawled to bed beside Dean and started studying the pages together with him, shoulder pressed to Dean’s. After some time, despite his height and weight, he climbed on Dean’s back just like he used to when he was little and Dean was taller, resting his chin on his brother’s shoulder and kept reading. From time to time he nibbled Dean’s earlobe, sometimes licked the delicate skin and sometimes delivered a small kiss right under Dean’s ear. For the first sight, Dean didn’t react to any of it, but in reality he wrapped Sam into the thick blanket of his affection.  

After an hour or a little bit more Sam fell asleep, head resting on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean closed the book and pushed it away, ready to go to sleep himself while serving as a mattress to his little brother.              

Things got perfect from that day again. Christmas was gone and the New Year was right behind the door. For the money Dean earned as Bobby’s helper in the garage and won hustling pool and playing poker in the local bar the brothers bought fireworks. When it was shortly before midnight, they sneaked into the farther part of the salvage yard with a box full pyrotechnics, but then they missed the moment when both hands on Dean’s watch reached number twelve as they were already sharing their New Year’s kiss and didn’t stop for at least another five minutes.

“Shit, we’re late,” Dean said, and a big, cheerful grin split his face.

Sam only laughed heartily.

With Dean around he barely had time to stop and just think. His mind was preoccupied with his brother. Dean was circulating in Sam’s system, he was in his every cell, he was the life force flowing through Sam’s body and soul. Sam felt more alive than any time before, happier and stronger, healthier and more focused. His body abounded with energy.

Dean didn’t have it different. He could go on for days without feeling tired if Sam was by his side. There was no pain, on body or soul, no loneliness or fear, no feeling of being lost in the big world with nothing just his will to survive. The anger he had used to feel when miles had been separating him from his Protector was gone. There was peace in Dean’s mind and if he got into a brawl once or twice in the bar or a side alley with the former members of the rival gang from his teen years, it only helped him to keep the need for a fight under control. He didn’t see Jenna anymore. He heard she left the town for college. He didn’t regret not seeing her, he wished her all the happiness of the world, but she had been a part of his life, more than any other girl before her, she was a friend and Dean maybe hoped to make sure she was doing well. But when he went to pick up Sam from school, he completely forgot about her. His world revolved around Sam and that was right. That was how it was supposed to be.

When Dean reached the age of twenty-one, he became Sam’s legal guardian instead of Bobby. Now Sam was his not just by his origin and consent, but also by law. And it was definitely the best birthday present Dean had ever gotten. They celebrated until late night hours , drinking beer and having fun. With a sneaky pleasure Dean watched Sam drinking one beer after another until the boy, after he got over the stage of uncontrollable laughter and an unsuccessful attempt to give Dean a blowjob in front of Bobby and Pamela, almost fell asleep in Dean’s lap. His dog ears were sticking in different directions and his lower lip was captured between his dog teeth. He didn’t let his claws out, though, which was good because as snuggly as Sam was the whole evening, Dean was sure there would have been scratches all over his arms and chest by the time he finally got Sam to bed.

The next day Sam woke up with a terrible headache. He refused any food and asked only for water. Prudently, Dean put a bucket beside the bed. It turned out to be an excellent idea since Sam would hardly have managed to get to the bathroom in time when his stomach protested furiously and he puked several times. He cursed the sun, the beer and the hangover and swore he wouldn’t touch any alcohol ever again. Dean only laughed at that and generously allowed Sam to stay at home that day, nursing him willingly.

“Don’t you think it was a little wicked to let him get so drunk?” Bobby asked as Dean ate his breakfast with gusto after he assisted Sam with the bucket.

Dean only grinned and shrugged. “It was a life lesson,” he said and added an extra bacon on his toast.

When he returned back to Sam with painkillers and a glass of water, the kid was whining into his pillow.

“Are you trying to suffocate yourself?” Dean asked, amused.

Sam groaned. “The light’s friggin’ strong!” he complained.

“Sorry, but I can hardly turn off the sun,” Dean said, keeping his voice down. “Here, I brought you something against the headache.”

“You’re a god,” Sam sighed gratefully.

Dean only smirked as he watched his brother swallow the pill and down the water. “You should eat something. I made you chicken soup earlier in the morning.”

“Are you crazy? I’ll puke again if I get anywhere near food. I’m glad my stomach finally calmed down a little.”

“As you wish, but the soup would help you, too,” Dean reasoned.

“I highly doubt it.”

“Don’t be a bitch.” Dean shook his head and sat down on the bed. “When the painkillers kick in, come down to eat, okay? You’ll feel better.” He put a hand on Sam’s hip and caressed gently, a smile tugging at his lips.

“You shouldn’t have let me drink so much…” Sam whined again.

“Me?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t let you do anything. I only asked you if you wanted another beer. You were the one who said yes.” He sniggered.

“And you brought me that beer,” Sam said with accusation.

“If you wanted me not to, everything you needed to do was say no. You didn’t. Don’t blame me for your choice.”

“I’m only sixteen. I shouldn’t drink at all!”

“If you know that, why did you?”

“You offered.”

“That’s a lame excuse, Sammy, and you know it,” Dean sighed.

“You drank, too. How come you’re okay?”

“First thing,” Dean started patiently, “I have much more experience with alcohol than you, so it’s understandable my tolerance is higher. Another thing, you may have not realized it, but you were drinking too fast and as a result drank more than me. It’s not my fault you don’t know your limits. And I’d rather if you learn them under my watch than ridicule yourself in a circle of strangers who wouldn’t let you live it down.”

Sam stiffened, giving Dean a careful look. “Did I do something awkward?”

“Nah,” Dean grinned. “If I forget how you blurted something along the lines ‘I wanna suck you’ and then tried to unbuckle my belt but was too clumsy to do it, there was nothing worth mentioning. I’m also pretty sure that neither Bobby nor Pamela suffered any mental trauma because of that.”

“What!?” Sam’s eyes widened in horror. “Jesus… I wanna die…”

Dean chuckled and lay down next to his brother. “It’s not such a big deal, Sammy.”

“How is it not a big deal?” Sam growled. “I made a total fool of myself!”

“Sam,” Dean’s tone changed from amused to serious. “You can be foolish sometimes, yes, but we’ll never see a fool in you, because we know you, we love you, and we care about you. You made a mistake and that’s it for us. Just an episode.” He turned his head to meet Sam’s gaze and smiled. “And it was a hell of a funny episode,” he added with a broad grin.

Sam groaned, hiding his burning face in the pillow. “I hate you,” he mumbled.

“No, you don’t,” Dean said lightly, patting Sam’s hip as he sat up. “Rest now and when you feel like getting your fine ass out of bed eventually, join me in the kitchen.”

Shortly before the noon Sam got up. He tried to sneak through the house unnoticed, but it didn’t help him much anyway since he met Pamela in the kitchen.

“Good morning, lover boy,” she said with an amused smirk.

Sam wished to disappear in thin air.

Even Dean didn’t bother to hide his grin when he saw Sam’s blush. “Sit down,” he beckoned to his brother and stood up from the table himself. “Will you make him coffee, please? Black,” he asked Pamela, “and I’ll heat the soup meanwhile.”

Sam didn’t need to wait long for his coffee, but after the first sip he made a face and it was Dean who drank it in the end. On the contrary, Sam ate the soup gratefully and not just because Dean made it, but primarily because he started feeling hungry.

He was halfway through the soup when Bobby came into the kitchen. “Hey, kid,” he greeted Sam, who already expected some mocking remark concerning the last night. To his surprise, nothing like that came. “When you feel like breathing some fresh air, maybe you could keep me company in the garage if you want to,” Bobby said instead and then discussed some things concerning cars with Dean.

Sam finished his soup meanwhile. His stomach calmed down and the painkillers kicked in so even if the headache wasn’t completely gone, he felt much better.

Dean ruffled his hair, giving Sam a broad smile as he took the empty plate from under Sam’s nose. “Go find something to do. I’ll join you later.”

Sam thought that it probably wasn’t such a bad idea to go out. He went upstairs to change his clothes and brush his teeth at first before he took Bobby’s offer.

He found him in the garage fixing a car which Sam doubted would ever run again. He sat down on the wooden table, feet resting on the seat. The air was saturated with heavy smells of gas and oil, but somehow Sam didn’t mind.

“How do you feel?” Bobby asked, not lifting his head from his work.

“Better,” Sam said, stretching his long legs in front of him.

Bobby nodded and put a few components on the table beside Sam and started to polish them. Sam crinkled his nose at the smell of the chemical he used. “You’re richer of an experience,” he said matter-of-factly. “Did you learn something from it?”

“Never drink again and don’t trust Dean when he offers you alcohol?” Sam offered.

Bobby stopped in his work for a moment to look at Sam. “Nope, ya idjit,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re worse than your brother.”

“So what was it about if not getting me drunk?”

“Dean didn’t want to get you drunk. He wanted you to understand that you and only you are responsible for your actions. Dean can be mistaken and that’s when you need to find out what’s best to do.”

“What if we both are mistaken?” Sam asked.

“It can happen, of course. But at least it’ll be the result of two brains thinking and not just one and the other blindly following.”

Sam tilted his head to the side. “You think I blindly follow Dean?”

“No, but you let him do whatever he wants with you,” Bobby said and got back to polishing. “I’m just saying what I think he wanted and how I interpreted it. I don’t think he would let it go too far, but he wanted to make a point. I was just curious if you understood.” He put the component on the table and took another one. “Look, I may not agree with his methods, but even I have to admit that sometimes actions are more effective than words. Especially when it’s about you two.” He looked at Sam with a raised eyebrow, and there really was nothing Sam could say. He bit his lip and watched Bobby working.

“Wanna help me?” Bobby asked after a few awkward seconds.

“Sure. What shall I do?”

“Come here, I’ll show you,” Bobby beckoned to Sam to follow him to the car.

When Dean came into the garage later, he found Sam bending over the engine, trying to figure out which cable led where and what screw needed to be tightened.  

Sam apparently learned from this lesson, because when Dean offered him whiskey next time, he gave Dean a suspicious look and then refused.

January turned into February and February into March, days were going by and April was gone with the wind as well. Dean started being restless and not even sparring with Sam or occasional brawls in the town helped him to silence the calling of his Warrior blood for a proper fight. He started being impatient even with Sam and he didn’t like it. The sex became rougher as well and when they woke up one morning, Sam’s body bruised where Dean had gripped him, Dean realized they had a serious problem.

He needed a hunt. And Bobby was already looking for something that could sate that hunger, but nothing was in the area. However, Ellen Harvelle knew about a few possible hunts. The only problem was that Dean couldn’t decide whether to take Sam with him or not. On one hand, they needed to learn to be a team out there in the world, not only in the safety of Bobby’s salvage yard. But on the other, Sam had school, and had Dean any right to expose him to such danger? Dad wanted Sam safe and he would never have agreed with him involved in a hunt.

In the end, Dean decided for the latter option, but he promised himself (and even said that to Bobby) to not deny Sam to go hunting with him when the kid turned eighteen. But there was a whole year ahead until that moment. Exactly one year. Sam was seventeen and Dean wanted to celebrate his brother’s birthday before he let him even know that he was leaving in a couple of days.

When he dragged Sam to a tattoo studio after he picked him up from school, Sam’s eyes widened with understanding and excitement.

“Am I getting a…?”

Dean grinned. “Yes. I wanted to wait until you were eighteen, but better sooner than later. Where do you want it?”

“The same place as you,” Sam replied with a broad smile, and if Dean could have seen his tail, he was sure it would have been waving from side to side.

He laughed and tousled Sam’s hair even though they were in public and Sam was a big boy. And wasn’t he a proud big brother? When he and Sam made love that night, he couldn’t take off his eyes of the tattoo just like his, in the exactly same place under the left collar bone, the visible mark they belonged to each other. It was still red and even though Dean wished nothing less than map the tattoo with his tongue, he obediently left the wound alone. He knew it would be healed until the next day and he would have all the time in the world to do it whenever he wanted while they were alive.

The weekend after Sam’s birthday was pretty amazing. They took it easy, just relaxed and had fun, not bothering with training or any work. But as the Sunday evening was dragging closer, Dean knew he would need to tell Sam about his trip. He lured Sam into their jeep and after a long kissing session he started the conversation he had been avoiding the whole time.

“Sammy?”

“Hm?” Sam was lying on the backseat with his head resting on Dean’s thigh. He looked up at his brother and the dreaminess present on his face just a while ago was all gone. “Oh, this is going to be serious, isn’t it?”

“Well… yes,” Dean admitted, tangling his fingers in Sam’s hair nervously.

“What is it?” Sam encouraged him.

“I… need a fight.”

“Okay. So what’s the plan?”

“I was thinking about paying a visit to the Harvelles. I’m sure Ellen will know something about a possible hunt.”

Sam sat up. “Great. When do we leave?”

Dean lifted the corner of his mouth in a crooked smile. “You’re not going anywhere, Sammy. I’m going, you’re staying.”

Sam gave Dean a confused look. “What?”

“You have school. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

“Are you leaving me?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Sammy, you’re safe here…”

“You said you were never going to leave me again. You promised!” Sam cut him midsentence. “I’m either going with you or forget it!” He got out of the jeep and slammed the door behind himself angrily.

Dean sighed heavily. Sam could be really difficult sometimes. Dean wanted to give him time to cool down and then try to talk to him again. But Sam stayed pissed the whole evening, glaring at Dean whenever he could, and he went to bed sooner. When Dean joined him, Sam showed him his back, the bad mood seeping from him.

Dean pressed his chest to Sam’s back and pressed a kiss to his neck. Sam didn’t react, neither was there a shift in his emotions.

“Sammy, I need a fight. I really need it.”

“So far fighting your old gangmates seemed to be enough,” Sam growled.

“Not anymore. It’s too little. I need a proper fight. With a purpose.”

Sam rolled on his back finally and looked Dean in the eye. “I get it. I really do. But I should be there, too. I’m your Protector for heaven’s sake, Dean, your fights are my fights.”

Dean frowned. “They are not.”

“They so are,” Sam insisted. “You told Dad your place was by my side. Mine is by yours. Don’t push me away.”

“I’m not pushing you away, Sammy,” Dean said with a sigh. “I want you to be safe. And you have your responsibilities here.”

“Bullshit,” Sam growled and turned away again. “Why do I train so hard if I’m not allowed to do my damn job?”

“Because you’re too precious and still too young,” Dean said as he snaked his arm around Sam’s torso.

Sam snorted. “You forgot I’ve already exorcised demons.”

“Trapped in a Devil’s Trap so that they couldn’t hurt you,” Dean pointed out.

Sam snarled darkly and when he looked at Dean over his shoulder, his eyes were brown and his bared teeth sharp and intimidating. Dean let him go and pulled away.

“Leave me alone and go to sleep,” Sam snapped as he turned away once more.

He preferred his dog form for the morning run – something that didn’t happen for some time already. He was distant and didn’t spare Dean a single more look then necessary.

“What the hell is up with you two?” Bobby asked them when the tension at the breakfast was already too much to bear.

“Dean’s leaving for a hunt,” Sam said venomously.

“Oh,” Bobby said in an indifferent tone. “So that’s why you’re acting like a girl with PMS.”

Sam glared while Dean tried to look like he didn’t hear.

“When you finish your breakfast, I’ll take you to school,” Bobby said and patted Dean’s shoulder as he passed him on his way to the kitchen counter.

Before Sam left, he finally showed some interest in his brother, and Dean could feel his anger backed off to make place to fear. “You won’t leave without telling me, right?” he asked.

“No,” Dean said. “You’ll be the first one I’ll tell.”

Sam nodded and hurried to join Bobby in the car.

“Sam?” Bobby addressed him as they passed the gate of the salvage yard.

“Hm?”

“You know Dean won’t leave until you say you’re okay with it, don’t you?” Bobby said in the fatherly tone he always used when he wanted to talk some sense into those stubborn heads of the Winchester boys.

“I’m not so sure,” Sam said sourly, looking out of the window.

“Because you’re an idjit,” Bobby said and continued. “Without you, he would become the menace of the town long ago. Protectors not only protect their Warriors, but they also regulate their need for a fight and sooth the aggression Warriors are born with. But it only means you have to let your Warrior filter that need somewhere appropriate. Dean has his hunts. Once he gets that aggressive energy out of his system, he’ll come back and live the peaceful life he has here with you for another half-year and more. I thought you could feel his restlessness yourself.”

“I can,” Sam agreed. “And I understand, but what I don’t get is why I can’t go with him. Dean needs a fight and I need to protect him.”

“Sometimes it’s better to just say ‘go and come back to me safely’,” Bobby said with something like nostalgia in his undertone. “You would spare yourself a lot of trouble. It’s not mainly the distance that makes you sick. It’s primarily the terror of it. You were always forced to be apart and you were dying with fear you wouldn’t see each other again. Not soon enough at least and for as much time as you needed.”

Sam turned to Bobby, his forehead creased with concentration. “Are you telling me I won’t feel like shit if I agree with him to go without me?”

“You will feel like shit,” Bobby replied, “but you’ll be able to go through a day without a bigger problem.”

“He could take me with him and there would be no problem,” Sam said stubbornly.

“I totally agree with Dean in this. It’s better if you stay,” Bobby said calmly.

“Can I know why?” Sam asked with a frown. Why did everyone think he needed to be protected? Protection was _his_ job description and he wasn’t a useless princess, he could take care of himself.

“Because your SATs are right behind the corner. You need to study, kid. I thought you wanted to apply for a college next year,” Bobby said unexpectedly. “With your results it’d be a shame if you didn’t give it a try at least.”

“I do want,” Sam said and stopped glaring for change. “But I’m not sure Dean thinks the same as you,” he muttered.

He didn’t think much about future, it could change from day to day and with Dean’s idea to go for a hunt and leave Sam behind, because that way Sam ‘was safe’, he wasn’t sure if he ever would leave Bobby’s salvage yard. And there was also their deal. Sam didn’t know if it still stood, but if Dean hadn’t changed his mind and was taking Sam with him one day, Sam doubted that a college would have a place in his future life. However, he would love to try and see if he had a chance at all to be accepted to such a study. He didn’t need to attend the school after that, right?

“It’s what you two will have to discuss. It’s right about time to start thinking about future, Sam. About what you two want to do after you finish high school,” Bobby said gently and then fell silent, leaving Sam to his thoughts.

 


	23. His First Kill

 

Sam wondered if Dean would come to pick him up from school. As he walked with Samantha to the school gate, he attuned to Dean’s location. He could feel him coming, so things weren’t as bad as he thought. He had been a bitch in the morning, but he simply couldn’t come to terms with the thought of not to be with Dean again. They belonged with each other, that was how it was supposed to be, and Sam hated the idea of Dean being in danger while he was sitting on his ass in the safety of Bobby’s house. Look how it ended last time! Dean needed to understand that Sam could hardly be okay with that.

For some reason, Dean was a little bit late that day, so Sam had no choice but to wait for him at the gate. Samantha decided to stay with him until Dean turned up. They were talking about colleges. She wanted to try to attend Yale while Sam didn’t really have a plan.

“With your brain cells I would try Yale, too,” she grinned.

“You’re only saying that because you want us to stay schoolmates,” he said with a smirk.

“Maybe,” she admitted. “That way you could keep bothering me with your love dramas and I could fill you in on my love life.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Is there something more interesting for which you’d want me to stick around?”

“Let me see…” she made a thoughtful face, but then suddenly her eyes widened. “Sam! Look out!”

Sam didn’t notice him coming until he was too close; an angry man, looking like a beggar, dirty and obviously crazy stormed to him, face contorted with pure fury. Sam barely had time to dodge, reacting purely on instinct sharpened by the years of hard training. He growled menacingly as the guy made a swift turn and his hands shot in the air again, ready to get a hold on the young, pissed-off Protector.

Even though Sam had never had a chance to see someone like this guy, he recognized him right away. A poor thing, a Protector once, but cut-off and robbed of his essence. Sam never had prejudice against other people, but this man, this… this… _cripple_ made him feel disgusted. There was nothing pure about him, no love, no purpose, no reason of his existence. He was lost and useless. He was nothing.

“Give back my essence!” the guy yelled as he reached for Sam again in an attempt of a new attack.

Sam didn’t have time to think. Everything was quick and Sam was so pissed right now that this despicable creature dared to _touch_ him. There was no mercy in him when his sharp dog teeth dug in the guy’s hand.

 _That’ll teach you some respect,_ he thought hatefully as the guy screamed and pressed his bitten hand to his chest. Sam could see the blood oozing from the wound and he grinned, satisfied.

“Do you have enough?” he asked loftily, but it seemed that only drove the guy more furious.

“Gimme my essence!” he cried as he jumped forward, hitting Sam in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. His iron grip on Sam’s arm was surely going to leave a bruise there. “You stole my essence! Give it back!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Sam yelled back and slashed across the guy’s face with his claws before he hit him hard to get rid of him, but the scoundrel didn’t let go. Sam growled and with a trained grip he twisted the guy’s hand into an awkward angle until the guy screamed in pain and loosened the grip. Sam kicked him and jumped away from him, baring his teeth, a throaty growl left his mouth.

But apparently, such warnings had no effects on the madman. Insanity was glistening in his eyes and he was prepared for another attack. It was clear that he wasn’t going to stop unless Sam knocked him unconscious.

The lunatic reached into the pocket of his dirty jacket. A flash of a light from a blade was enough of a warning for Sam.

“I’ll kill you, demon,” the guy hissed.

Sam snorted. “Come on!” he cried. This was really going too far… “I don’t have your fucking essence! I was born a Protector, you idiot!”

Before the lunatic could attack again, there was another knife pressed to his throat menacingly.

“Drop the blade,” Dean’s commanding voice sounded and Sam gave a sigh of relief.

The guy tried to free himself, but Dean was holding him firmly, and the light cut on the throat he caused himself that way was persuasive enough form him to stop fighting and drop the knife.

“Sam.”

Sam picked up the knife so that the guy couldn’t get a hold of it again.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah.”

“Hide your dog parts, then!” Dean hissed, and this time he looked seriously pissed.

Sam looked around. There were too many unwanted witnesses, too many people who saw him, saw his true nature, and when he turned around, the horrorstruck face of his best friend broke his heart. His claws and teeth were gone when he stepped closer, but she backed away from him.

“Sam,” he addressed her gently.

“Don’t come closer!” she said in a panicky voice. Hearing her, he didn’t get why she still hadn’t called the police.

… Or maybe she did. Sam’s sharp ears caught the distant sound of sirens.

“Dean, cops!”

“Fuck!” Dean threw the guy away from him and stepped closer to Sam, half-shielding him. “Get lost! If I see you again, I’ll kill you,” he warned.

The man sized them up, finally having a good look at his attacker and his charge, and his face contorted in true hate. “You two!” he cried. “DISGUSTING!” He spat to Dean’s feet.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Did you say something?”

The sound of the sirens was now audible even to his ears and was getting stronger. They didn’t have much time.

“You come again, I’ll slit your throat,” he threatened before he grabbed Sam to pull him to the Impala parked on the other side of the road.  

“Dean, wait!” Sam stopped him and turned quickly to Samantha, who was still standing there, looking horrified.

“Sam,” Sam spoke to her in a low, calm tone. “Listen to me…”

“What _are_ you?” she asked, looking like her world had just crushed down.

“Have you ever heard about Warriors and Protectors?” he asked.

She frowned. “What?”

“Sam, have you?” Sam insisted.

“They’re just a legend!” she cried, looking at him as though he was crazy.

“They are not,” Sam said slowly, patiently. This was important. He needed her to understand. “Dean’s a Warrior and I’m his Protector.”

“Sam, we need to go,” Dean urged him. The sound of the sirens was coming closer and it already bordered on ears-splitting.

Sam’s eyes never left Samantha’s. “You know what you saw,” he said and showed her his claws, making them disappear again. She glanced at them, but her incredulous expression didn’t change. “My true form is a dog, Sam. I can turn into one.”

The sirens were a way too close already.

“Sam, we need to go NOW!”

“I beg you, Sam, no word to anyone. You’re still my friend,” Sam said hastily, turning to Dean and running with him to the Impala. They left the place just in time to avoid the police vehicles.

“Dammit, that was close,” Dean growled.

“I know, but I needed her to understand.”

“She didn’t seem convinced, though. This is such a mess…”

Sam couldn’t agree more and he already started worrying what it meant.

The moment they left the town Dean stepped on the gas. He was tense and didn’t talk, his jaw set, his attention fully concentrated on the road. When they finally reached the salvage yard, he jumped out of the car and hurried to find Bobby with Sam at his heels.

“We got a problem,” he said barely did he step into the living room where Bobby was reading some heavy book.

“What’s up?” the hunter asked and from the boys’ earnest expressions he could guess that this was something truly serious.

“Sam was attacked,” Dean said breathlessly.

“What? By who?”

“It was one of those cut-off, essenceless Protectors. The guy was crazy, he wanted his essence back and he thought Sam had stolen it,” Dean explained quickly.

“Balls! Are you all right, Sam?”

“Yeah, not a scratch,” Sam said. “He’s the one injured, though,” he said with a slight, satisfied grin.

“It’s not funny,” Dean cooled him down. “You exposed yourself. I don’t think anyone noticed your teeth except your girlfriend…”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Sam barked out, annoyed. He hated this joke. Dean knew better than that and there was still that drop of jealousy of Sam’s best friend. Sam was fed up with it.

“Whatever,” Dean replied indifferently. “What I wanted to say is that I’m not sure how much your claws escaped unwanted attention.”

“Dammit, Sam!” Bobby cursed.

Sam frowned. “It was an instinct,” he said.

Bobby sighed. “Naturally.”

“He won’t let go,” Dean spoke again. “In his crazy head he not only thinks that Sam stole his essence, but is also convinced that he doesn’t deserve to have any. He’ll come after Sam again if we don’t find him sooner.”

Bobby ran a hand over his face tiredly. “That means…”

“A hunt,” Dean said resolutely and checked for his gun in the pocket of his jacket. “We’ll go tonight to capture the son of a bitch. Are you in?” He looked at Bobby.

“You know I am.”

“Me too,” Sam said, voice firm and confident.

“No, you’re not,” Dean cooled him down immediately. “You’re staying with Pamela.”

Sam growled. “The hell I am!” he barked. “He attacked me in front of my school, right in front of my friend, and he wants to get my essence – that makes it all a little bit personal, don’t you think? Anyway, how do you want to find him?”

“Track him,” Dean said simply.

“How?”

Dean had to admit Sam got him lost in this. “We’ll find him, you don’t need to worry.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m not worried. But as I see it now, you may run around the whole town and find nothing. You have the best tracker you can find here and you’re going to leave him home because you’re afraid he’s made of sugar or something.”

“You know it’s not like that,” Dean protested.

“Then why? Dean, I’m not an incompetent kid. I’m capable. You could see today I can take care of myself. And I can be useful. I remember his scent and I’m sure I can sniff him out. It’ll save us a lot of time.”

Dean glanced at Bobby desperately, looking for support.

“I think he has a point,” Bobby said, crushing Dean’s hopes, but bringing a smile on Sam’s face.

“Fine,” Dean snapped. “But if the son of bitch does as much as bend a hair on your head, he’ll pay for it ten times as much,” he finished menacingly.

“Don’t worry, Big Brother,” Sam said with a grin, and, drunk with his small victory, he left the room to find and load his gun.

“What about his school?” Pamela asked from behind Dean’s back. He hadn’t noticed her. Even though she locked her Protector’s powers after her Warrior’s death, she still couldn’t deny her feline essence. In comparison with her, even Sam’s silent walk was too loud.

Dean gave a heavy sigh as he ran his hand over his face. “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I’d love him to finish at least this year, but I’m not sure how safe it is. I don’t think people around noticed his fangs, and, okay, he bit the guy, but he could bite him even with his human teeth, but the claws? Who was far enough, wouldn’t notice, I noticed myself only when I got closer, but…” He shrugged again. “And there is this girl. Even if no one else saw Sam’s change, she did and what if she couldn’t keep her mouth shut? Sam begged her not to tell anyone, but we were in a rush and she was pretty much freaked out… DAMMIT!!!” He hit Bobby’s desk with his fist. When he raised his head and looked at Bobby, there was desperation in his face. “What am I supposed to do?” he asked in a low voice. “I can’t take him from here. Where would I take him, anyway? He’s safest here.”

“Then we need to find out how much the situation changed. Maybe the girl won’t be such a problem if Sam talked to her,” Bobby offered.

Dean gave him a sour smile. “Maybe. But I don’t want to rely on that.”

“No,” Bobby agreed with him. “But if there’s the slightest chance for Sam to finish high school here, then we should at least give it a try.”

“Fine,” Dean said, “but I won’t let him out of my sight unless I make sure he’s not in danger.”

“Fair enough. I’ll help you,” Bobby announced.

“Count me in,” Pamela said with firm determination in her voice.

Dean nodded his appreciation and left the room to check on his brother. He caught him right by loading his new Colt.

“You’re pretty excited,” Dean commented.

“This is the first time I’m allowed into a true action. Like your Protector. Yeah, I’m pretty much excited about it,” Sam replied as he put the gun on the bedside table on (not necessarily) his side of the bed.  

“Sammy, if something happens to you, Dad will rip me in two,” Dean tried one more time to persuade Sam to be reasonable, but he knew before the words were out it was no good. Sam’s fiery gaze was enough of an answer.

“It won’t happen. I’ll be fine,” Sam said with such a conviction in his voice that he almost made Dean believe it was true.

“I hope so,” Dean sighed. “Anyway, Sammy… I think it’ll be better if you go as a dog…” he said carefully. As a dog, Sam would be less conspicuous if something went wrong.

“I was thinking about that,” Sam said to Dean’s surprise. “I feel more in my skin and fighting is easier that way. I mostly go on instinct and it works.”

Okay, different reason, but the result was the same. Dean could live with it. “Where did you have a chance to fight in your dog form?” he asked with a trace of sarcasm in his voice.

Sam looked at him as though he were dumb. “Who do you think trained me when neither you nor Dad was here?”

“But this is not training,” Dean objected and could feel Sam’s growing annoyance subsequently.

“I’ll be _fine_ ,” Sam said impatiently. “But I still want you to keep this for me.” He handed Dean his gun.

Dean nodded and took the pistol. “I’ll do it. Just, please, be careful, Little Brother.”

A corner of Sam’s mouth lifted in a lopsided smile. “I will.”

The evening drew faster than Dean hoped for it to come. He didn’t have a good feeling about it. Sam’s excitement filled the whole house, making Dean kind of light-headed. He was worried that if Sam kept going like this, Dean could screw something up later when his full awareness was needed. Or Sam. Judging from his emotions, the little brother seemed unable to wait. Nevertheless, on the outside he gave the impression of a cold-blooded hunter, exceedingly patient when the need called for it, and Bobby and Pamela obviously bought it. Dean had the advantage of knowing better.

It was already a couple of hours after the nightfall when Dean, Bobby and Sam in his dog form got in the Impala and rode into the town of Sioux Falls. They agreed it was best to start in the place of the attack. When Dean left Sam out of the car, the German Shepherd started sniffing the air and the ground immediately until he caught the right scent and led the two hunters deeper into the town. Twice he lost the track, but he always found the right direction in the end. He acted like a true dog and who didn’t know him could hardly guess it was a boy they may have met before.

Soon Sam led them to side alleys, but after some time, his nose brought them back to the school grounds, only from a different direction. And there, they found the guy trying to climb over the fence.  

“Hey, you!” Dean called, and Sam barked to support him.

The guy turned his head to them and even in the dim light of the distant streetlamps Dean could see how his face contorted with true hatred.

“Thief!” the guy hissed as he jumped off the fence, eyes glued on Sam, who crouched a little as though he wanted to attack, ears plastered to his skull, teeth bared, and a dark throaty growl echoed into the night. The guy crouched as well, copying Sam’s posture, teeth bared the same way as he growled back, “Lousy thief. Disgrace of our race.”

This time Sam’s growl was laced with anger and disdain. _Look at yourself, you scum._

The situation would have been comical if it wasn’t serious. Two Protectors, both thinking they were better than the other one, because one of them had lost his essence and his Warrior and therefore his dignity in Sam’s eyes, the other had won his Warrior’s love, which had given him the power he wasn’t supposed to possess over Dean, something unthinkable and therefore despicable.

“Calm down, both of you,” Dean said in a commanding voice. “We came to talk.” At least that was the original plan – to capture the guy and interrogate him, or to interrogate him and then capture, the order didn’t matter. They needed to know how he got there and if he had known about Sam before or found out about him only accidentally. He noticed Bobby sneaking up behind the guys back to surround him, Sam took the other direction, but he didn’t go far from his brother. Dean could feel his unwillingness to leave his side even for a couple of inches.

“Talk!” the guy spat. “I’m not talking to such filth!”

Sam’s growl was menacing.

“I want back what you took from me.” He turned to Sam, making a step toward him. Sam’s white fangs shone in the darkness; the hair on his neck and back was sticking out. Even Dean wouldn’t have wanted to meet him in a dark alley…

Dean’s ears caught the soft click of Bobby’s gun, but, fortunately, the guy didn’t notice. All his attention belonged to Sam.

“No one took anything from you,” Dean said as he stepped between the guy and Sam, putting his hand on the guy’s shoulder. “This is our territory and no one of your kind crossed these parts of the country so far. How did you get here?”

“Don’t touch me!” the guy yelled, shoving Dean’s hand away.

Everything happened too quickly after that. The guy attacked, trying to knock Dean off, but Dean wasn’t a newbie. He had enough experience with the likes as this one. He knew what he could expect: determination, stubbornness, ferocity, anger, and the craziness that gave the guy incredible strength.

 _So capture first, interrogate later,_ Dean thought as he returned the guys blows. _That’s for wanting to hurt Sam, you son of a bitch._  

There probably couldn’t be a more equal fight, but Sam, who attacked from the other side, pushed the odds in Dean’s favor. He was like a shadow, an avenger striking from the darkness, always going for the weakest spots – arms, legs and ankles, making the bites painful enough for the guy falter and lose the control over the fight, which gave Dean advantage. They were a team, he and Sam, a good team. Bobby was standing nearby with cuffs, waiting for his chance. If he joined the fight, too, there would have been too many of them.

The guy didn't owe them anything. He fought like a tiger, his movements smooth and instinctive. He must have been a good Protector before he lost his essence and Dean wondered what could possibly happen to him that he had become this mess of insanity.

Sam gave a short painful whine as the madman directed his next attack at him, gripping the skin on the dog's neck and thrusting him on the hard pavement. His fist didn't have time to collide with the eared head as Dean gripped it and hit the guy in the face himself.

The bloody grin he was given sent chill up his spine.

"Bobby!" Dean called the hunter for help. Now was the moment, they could get him... or lose him. But the guy wasn't going to give up easily, Dean should have anticipated it. However limp the motherfucker might have appeared to him, it was just pretense or maybe the precious second to regain energy. One moment Dean was squeezing his wrist with one hand and the windpipe with the other, the next a cold barrel of a gun was kissing his chest.

The time stopped. Dean knew what was going to happen and his eyes found Sam's panicked ones. _I'm sorry,_ he sent a silent message.

Before the shot even had a chance to echo, Dean got a full blast of immense fear of the worst loss of all. He recoiled from the gun - _Sam's gun,_ which he had had in the inner pocket of his jacket. The lunatic had pulled it out of there while Dean had been strangling him and reacted incredibly fast.

Despite his subconscious little escape from the barrel, Dean knew he was going to meet his doom anyway... if Sam, driven by his fear, hadn't jumped the guy unexpectedly, shoving him on the ground, teeth digging into the bastard's throat.

The shot echoed anyway, and the blast sent Dean back flat on the ground as sharp pain rippled through his body...

Sam's horror reached the highest level, he couldn't think clearly as cold pain - not his, _Dean's -_ clouded his mind. Pure hatred, anger and desire to have his revenge for the cold-blooded murder of his Warrior and Protector in one precious person filled his whole being. He tightened the grip of his teeth until he could feel the copper-sweet taste of blood and life leaving the body in his complete power. His rival rattled and then stayed lying still. Sam didn't stop biting his throat, thinking about tearing it up, just for the sheer joy of making his revenge as bloody as possible. Life for life, blood for blood.

He heard someone calling him, but it wasn't the right voice, so he ignored it.

"Sammy!" There was only one person except Dad that called him that. The tone was soft, but firm. And commanding. "Let go! You can let go, puppy."

Sam closed his eyes tightly and the thick cloud of grief was lifted from his mind. He felt the presence of his reason to live again. He whimpered and loosened the grip, slowly lifting his head and looking where Dean was supposed to be lying dead on the cold ground.

But Dean was standing on his very own feet, looking as much alive as ever. Bobby was standing beside him, watching Sam awkwardly. Although Sam didn't know what caused that weirdness, he didn't care. Bobby didn't matter. It was Dean and Dean was calling him.

Relief flooded Sam's whole being, he gave a loud happy sound, something between a howl and whine, and hurried toward Dean. It was quite hard when his tail was wagging from side to side in wide waves and his dog butt pretty much copied the movements. And he needed to touch Dean, to feel him in his arms, to make sure with all his senses that Dean was still there, still breathing, still able to fold his arms around Sam, who partly turned into a boy, hugging Dean around his neck, pressing him close, his dog tail still waving excitedly.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean whispered into his ear soothingly. "I'm okay."

Sam sniffed into Dean's shoulder, a quiet, broken sob sounding close to the big brother's ear.

Dean didn't give him much time to pull himself together. Anyway, Sam was in some kind of shock, his emotions were confused and Dean couldn't make much out of them. He needed his brother to calm down as much as possible and get him out of there before anyone could see him.

"Sammy," he addressed his brother as he took his face into his one hand. There was blood around Sam's mouth even though the boy managed to wipe most of it into Dean's jacket. "I need you to turn back into a dog."

Sam's incomprehensive look told him they weren't on the same page right now.

"Do it, Sam!" he ordered in the tone that didn't allow any objection. It was a direct order of a Warrior to his Protector, and Sam had no choice but to obey. He whined and turned into a German Shepherd again. "Good boy," Dean praised him. "You'll go with Bobby now," he said as he handed the hunter the keys from the Impala. They needed to take care of the body and the fastest solution right now was to get it into the trunk of the car.

He could feel Sam didn't like the idea of letting Dean out of his sight.

" _Go,_ Sam!"

Sam whined, but then he lowered his head in submission to the order. Dean reached into the pocket of his jacket from where he dug the keys from the Impala. He threw them to Bobby, and when the hunter walked away, Sam went with him.

Dean sighed. He hated using that kind of power over Sam. So far he did it twice, to keep Sammy safe, but it still left that bitter aftertaste in his mouth when he used his superiority the status of Warrior gave him. It wasn’t right, Sam wasn’t his subordinate. He was his brother, his best friend, his lover, they were equal. Their love for each other changed their Pair dynamics as well, it brought some of that equality into it, and many, Dean knew, would think that it was messed up, but he believed it made them more powerful.

He waited in a shadow for Bobby and Sam to appear again. Soon after they had left him there guard the body, he heard the familiar rumbling of the engine and a couple of minutes later Bobby parked the car close to the death scene. He got out of the car and opened the trunk. Dean noticed Sam in his dog form standing on the backseat and looking out, scanning the surrounding for Dean. When he spotted him, he waved his tail and probably expected Dean to let him out, but Dean needed him out of the way. He would be with him in the backseat soon.

“I’ll help you,” he said to Bobby as he joined the hunter by the body.

“Like hell you will,” Bobby said in his grumpy manner. “Strain that injured arm more than necessary and I’ll salt your ass. I’ll manage alone, thanks. If you want to be useful, calm your brother down. He’s all beside himself.”

Dean watched Bobby to pick up the dead weight of the guy and when he made sure Bobby wasn’t kidding about managing the task to store the body into the trunk all by himself, he got in the backseat of the Impala next to Sam, careful that the injured arm wasn’t facing the side of his overexcited dog brother.

Sam’s muzzle was on his ear immediately and he licked it, then he pressed his soft forehead against Dean’s. Dean ran his good hand through the soft fur, feeling under his hand how fast Sam’s breathing was. He pressed the hand to the dog’s chest to check his heartbeat. Sam’s heart was racing and, judging from Sam’s confused emotions, he didn’t think it would slow down any time soon.

“Calm down, Sammy,” he said softly, and Sam whined and shifted closer.

Bobby got behind the wheel without a word and started the car. The sudden movement made Sam almost topple on the floor and he kept his balance in the last second. He growled and turned into his semi-human form. He took a deep breath and frowned, he gripped Dean’s jacket in his clawed hand and pulled it away from the wound. A low, almost inaudible growl sounded, and Dean stopped Sam in the last second, tangling his fingers in the little brother’s hair and pulling him away.

“No, Sammy. I don’t need you to lick my wounds,” he said in a low but firm voice.

Sam looked at him as though he didn’t understand.

Dean loosened the grip and forced himself into a smile. “It’s okay. Bobby and Pamela will patch me up, right, Bobby?”

“Right,” the hunter replied from the driver’s seat.

“See?” Dean talked to Sam again. “I’ll be fine.”

Sam whimpered as though it was him in pain. He snuggled closer to Dean, his face just inches from his brother’s before he delivered a gentle kiss on Dean’s mouth. Dean went with the flow willingly. He took Sam’s face in his good hand and reciprocated with a soft, open-mouthed kiss. Dean half-expected it to taste after the guy’s blood, and he felt true relief when it didn’t. He knew he wouldn’t have stopped kissing Sam even if he could feel the coppery taste on his tongue, but this way he could forget for a moment what had happened that night and try to bring Sam’s mind some comfort.

Later, Sam put his head on Dean’s good shoulder while his brother was doing a damn good job concentrating on his own relief and comfort, so that the pup could pick his feelings and finally calm down. Mostly, it worked, until they were back in the salvage yard and Dean’s shoulder needed to be taken care of.

Pamela didn’t need a long recapitulation of what happened. Mostly, she got everything she needed to know from their expressions.

Dean was directed into a chair in the kitchen. Pamela helped him to take off his clothes while Bobby went for the first aid kit and the tools he needed to take the bullet out. He put a bottle of whiskey in front of Dean, who would have disinfected the wound with it if Bobby hadn’t stopped him.

“It’s not for that, ya idjit. Drink it.”

Dean took several proper gulps. Bobby was right in one thing. If he got drunk, he would be too numb to feel the full extent of the pain he was going to suffer. Anyway, he welcomed the belt Bobby threw in his lap to bite in it while the hunter would be struggling with the bullet. Sam, in his dog form again, was running around and there was no trace of the peace Dean had been able to plant in his mind during the ride. Even if he was in the way most of the time, no one told him off or tried to get him out of the kitchen.

He sat next to Dean from his good side and put his head on Dean’s thigh. Dean smiled and patted him. “I’ll be all right,” he promised before he gently pushed Sam away.

“Ready?” Bobby asked.

Dean put the belt into his mouth, biting in it, and nodded.

The sharp pain that rippled through his body made him see stars. He groaned painfully, but after a second or two it started receding. Sam’s whine reached his ears and Dean made his tired mind concentrate on his dog brother. Sam’s shoulder was pressed to his leg and he was trembling as Dean’s pain poured into his body.

“Dammit, Sammy, NO!” Dean shoved him away and maybe he even kicked him none too gently. He could deal with his own pain, he didn’t need his younger brother, who was more of a mess inside than Dean, to ease it.

Sam mewled disappointedly and lay down to Dean’s feet, his snout so very close to Dean’s ankle, but he didn’t dare to touch him again until the bullet was out and Dean could breathe freely for a moment.

“You can patch him up,” Bobby said to Pamela, and they exchanged their places.

While Pamela was working on the older Winchester’s shoulder, Dean was watching Sam, trying to concentrate on his emotions. And they were absolutely chaotic. Most likely even Sam didn’t know what he felt. The puzzlement was too strong. Dean would have said Sam was in denial, he seemed to be unable to wrap his mind around the fact that he had killed – for his very first time (and Dean was sure it wasn’t the last) and even someone of his own kind, that was a lot to deal with. But if that was true and Sam really wasn’t able to understand – _denied_ to be able to understand – that simple fact that it was his teeth tearing the guy’s throat open, why did he bother to push his human side away and let the dog take a complete control? The only reason could be that it hurt less. As a dog, Sam could forget what he did and rather concentrate on what he could do, and that was to bring comfort to his Warrior.

However, that was exactly what Dean didn’t want. Sam was suffering, he could get it all right, but Dean was not going to allow him to take his pain away and use it as a tool of distraction from his feelings of guilt and shame. Sam needed to go through that all by himself. Dean was there for him, but he was not going to make it easy for him. Sam needed to learn to process those feelings and get over them – just like Dean had had to. He needed to find a top side of such deeds so that they didn’t leave him scared and useless like he was right now.

Sam’s head was resting on his front paws, and Dean could feel the puffs of warm breath on his ankle. He longed for the touch, but at first the pain must recede to as bearable level as possible so that it didn’t distract Sam from his own feelings. Not even the pleading puppy dog eyes could make Dean change his mind. He was determined to resist them – for Sam’s own good.

“Done,” Pamela said after some time, giving Dean’s good shoulder a pat, and smiled while Bobby handed him a few pills from across the table.

“What are they?” Dean asked as he reached for them.

“Can’t you guess?”

“Painkillers?”

“Bingo, idjit.”

“Shouldn’t you have given them to me before you tried your butcher’s abilities on me?” Dean grumbled.

“I gave you whiskey. You looked like you needed it more,” Bobby replied calmly. “I would’ve given some to Sam as well, but he didn’t seem to turn back any time soon.”

Dean glanced at his brother still in the dog form lying at his feet and watching Dean intently. His mouth was open with the pink tongue lolling out, and he was panting as though he ran a mile. There was still the dog part of his brain working while the human part refused to cooperate.

“No,” Dean said after a while. “I’ll take care of him.”

“Good. I’ll take care of the body in your trunk meanwhile.”

Dean rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “Thanks.”

Bobby snorted. “Just make sure you both are fine.”

 _Easier said than done._ Dean took the pills Bobby gave him and stood up from the table. Sam jumped on his feet as if he was stung.

“We’re going to bed,” Dean said tiredly, wishing for nothing less than cuddle up to Sam and sleep. He just needed to wait until the painkillers kicked in. “Come on, Sammy.”

Sam didn’t need to be told twice. He was right at his heels and Dean knew that even if he hadn’t called his dog brother, Sam would have followed him, no matter where he would have gone.

“Do you think we’ll need ear plugs tonight?” Pamela asked when the boys were out of their earshot.

Bobby shrugged. “It’s very likely.”

“Maybe they’ll just cuddle,” she said hopefully.

Bobby glanced at her doubtfully. “You don’t believe it yourself.”

Meanwhile Dean and Sam reached their room. Dean headed right for bed, feeling drained physically and emotionally and he hoped that Sam would be so nice, forgive himself soon and let Dean snuggle up to him without being a bitch, this time literally. But Sam didn’t seem to want to come out of his mental doggy shell.

Dean ran a hand over his face, frustrated. _This’ll be a long night…_ If only the pain had ceased a little.

“I’d use some help here,” he said as he unbuckled his belt and wanted to pull off his jeans. He could do it with one hand while the other was still hurting like a bitch, but if Sam wanted to be useful, here was his chance.

The dog gave something between a whine and a growl, and there was Sam standing there in his partly dog form. He still wasn’t letting go of his animal safety zone, but Dean noticed a shift in his feelings. There was concern, impatience and longing that could hardly be called sexual, but the fire in Sam’s eyes left no doubt that sex was what Sam needed right now. Not the action, but what it meant.

Sam had gotten scared that he had lost Dean that night. The fear might not have affected the strength of their bond, but Sam needed to feel it was still there, unscathed and as strong as always. He needed to feel Dean’s life still circulating through his veins, being pumped into his body system, he needed to know there was still a reason for his existence. Sam needed to feel Dean’s undying love to know nothing changed between them despite his bloody deed.

Sam killed for Dean that night, because he thought Dean was dead. Because he stopped caring. And now he needed to make sure that despite the death of the man, of the former Protector, of Sam’s kinsman, they were still the same, still Sam and Dean, still each other’s Protectors. Sam loved Dean more than anything and he needed to feel that he was loved back as much.

And that was what Dean could give him.

He stretched out his hand toward his little brother. “Help me, Sammy,” he said softly, and when Sam’s clawed fingers curled around his, he knew they would be fine unless he stopped breathing some time during the act, which he was not going to.

His heart started beating faster when Sam knelt in front of him and unzipped his jeans; his pinkish tongue flicked in the corner of the little brother’s mouth. Sam hooked his fingers in the waistband of Dean’s jeans and pulled them down his thighs unceremoniously together with his underwear. He sighed when Dean’s cock came into his view, but he didn’t try anything. He stood up and manhandled his brother to the bed, pushing him down and getting him rid of the clothes completely. He wasn’t gentle with the clothes, he practically tore it off Dean’s body and even managed to inflict a rip in Dean’s boxers with his claws, but he was careful enough not to do any harm to Dean’s body. That would have been unforgivable.

Dean lay down, free of his clothes, and Sam climbed on top of him immediately. Their eyes locked; Sam’s were still chocolate brown, the dog’s eyes, and Dean, even though he loved them, wished so much to see the original hazel-green.

Sam didn’t grant him that wish. Instead, he took Dean’s face in his hands and kissed him hard and deep and rough, his fangs still out, but somehow Sam managed to keep then out of the way when he invaded Dean’s mouth uncompromisingly. There wasn’t just passion in that kiss, there was also anger with himself and need and will to get back what he thought he had lost. He trembled after a while and gritted his dog teeth against Dean’s mouth, and when he kissed again, it was more uncoordinated, messier and fiercer.

In the brief moment between the kisses Dean realized what happened. He didn’t feel pain anymore, but there was this cold feeling coming from Sam, and even if Dean wanted to fight against Sam’s ability, he was not going to win. The whiskey and painkillers made him numb and left him totally in Sam’s mercy. And maybe it was okay like that; Sam was getting what he wanted – _needed_ – and that couldn’t be bad. Shouldn’t be…

Dean gasped for air when Sam’s mouth finally parted from his, and he opened his mind to Sam to feel his irritation with Sam’s feeling of guilt, but also love and compliance.

Sam growled and sniffed at the white bandage wound around Dean’s shoulder. There was more anger in his flow of emotions and more irritation in Dean’s. They clashed together, fire met fire, sparkle of disagreement flashed in both their pairs of the eyes.

Sam gave a dark growl and gave a thrust against Dean’s stomach, leaving a wet path of precome there.

“What are you waiting for? Do it,” Dean said in a commanding tone – he didn’t use his Warrior voice, he was careful about that – and spread his legs wide.

Sam frowned and growled, baring his teeth, but Dean knew it didn’t belong to him. Sam was opening up, letting Dean see the hurt in his heart, the disgust with his deed and the relief when he had found out Dean was alive.

“Let me feel it,” Dean spoke again, encouraging Sam to take what he needed.

Sam snorted, lifting from Dean’s body, and grabbed his legs to part them even more. He was leaking violently and his intention was obvious.

“Sam, the lube,” Dean said and tried to pull away, but Sam gripped him tighter and pulled back. The snarl that left his throat this time belonged fully to Dean.

Dean glared, but he could hardly do anything anymore, because Sam was already pushing in, his cock slick with the precome, but it wasn’t so easy to get into a tight, dry heat. Dean let his head fall down on the soft pillow, letting Sam do whatever he wanted. He registered his own pain just as a distant echo in Sam’s mind. Sam was whining quietly, his body trembling, but he didn’t stop pushing inside slowly despite the torture he inflicted on himself so willingly.

“Asshole,” Dean muttered when Sam was half-way inside, making a short pause to catch his breath and then continue.

It was quite some time since they did it this way. Lately, it had been Dean claiming Sam’s little ass and bruising his lean, beautiful body, because he couldn’t control his Warrior’s ferocity anymore. So he believed he owed Sam, even though he knew Sam was just using him to punish himself with Dean’s pain for not having been able to prevent him from getting injured. He thought he deserved it, because he had failed.

_You idiot, Sammy, bullshitting yourself like this…_

Sam was already whole way in, and he was panting, cold sweat was rolling down his temples. His dog ears were lowered and his hair was plastered to his wet forehead. He was beautiful even in his suffering, and when he opened his eyes finally, there was still that insecurity and fear from before.

Dean took a deep breath, determined to give Sam what he needed. To heal his wound and bring him back from his dog shell.

“Come on, Sammy, give it to me. Let me taste you on the root of my tongue…”

And Sam did.

The first couple of movements was slow and perfectly calculated, but once Sam found the right angle, he started thrusting in, setting a wild, fervent pace. He was rough, merciless, letting out all his desperation and fury. He was like and unleashed beast, outraged and ferocious, hitting the right spot every time, sending sparks of white-hot pleasure up Dean’s spine.

Dean completely lost the control over himself. Writhing under his brother, who kept thrusting into him uncompromisingly and with every pull and push forced a loud groan out of his throat, Dean could feel Sam’s undying love flooding his system. He had no idea how much he longed for being filled with it like this until this very moment. In return, he wrapped Sam’s pain into a cocoon of his own love and devotion. Gripping the pillow on either side of his head, he was trying to catch Sam’s eye, but Sam wasn’t looking at him, he was still in that dark place of his mind, and Dean had to push harder to overcome the flow of Sam’s self-loathing.

“Sammy,” he breathed out, and that caught Sam’s attention at last. Dean gave him a small smile. “I love you. Always have, always will. You know it.”

Sam tilted his head to the side, listening. He gave a quiet, painful whimper, but then he sighed and the flow became easier… more natural. Sam whined and sniffed and his eyes glistened with unshed tears. He bit his trembling lower lip, showing Dean the tips of his carnassial teeth.

“Hey, pup, it’s okay. Come on,” Dean encouraged him to continue.

Sam mewled and moved again in the same ferocious pace, but there was more carefulness, even gentleness in the way he pushed in. His anger started receding slowly, making place for grief. Now it was easier for Dean to weave the threads of his love through Sam’s emotions when they were protected with the wall of fury no more.

Sam sighed, meeting Dean’s eye. Gradually, his rage and resentment started fading out, yielding to the greatness of Dean’s affection. Sam opened his heart and let his brother fill him bit by bit, let him see the darkness that had settled in his heart. He let him take away the fear and heal the pain.

Sam’s body shuddered at the sudden explosion of pleasure, spreading from his groin into his whole body.

“Dean!” he cried out, reaching for his brother, looking for comfort in his arms and heart… Dean was still there. Not dead. Not taken away. Not disgusted by Sam. Still there and loving, caring, protecting, giving the last bit of himself to Sam.

Sam moaned loudly again, an incoherent sound this time, as a new wave of orgasm rippled through his body. Through the haze in his mind he registered Dean’s voice repeating his name over and over again as though it was a prayer. Sam felt like his heart was too small to contain all that love for his brother and despite the overflow into every cell of his body, it was still too much. And Dean still pushed and pushed into his heart, into his soul, into every bit of Sam’s being that it was hard to stay whole… Sam wasn’t even surprised at the sudden eruption, sweeping both of them into oblivion.

When Sam came around, he was still buried deep in Dean’s body, beautiful, slender, muscled, and all Sam’s. The knot was holding them together, Sam’s cock pulsing with release, filling Dean, marking him, making him all Sam’s. Dean was panting, his stomach stained with his own come. Their eyes met and when Dean smiled, exhausted but evidently content, Sam’s world started giving sense again.

“You’ve worn me out,” Dean said in a low, velvety voice laced with the sweetest emotion.

Sam took a deep breath, inhaling the mixture of the smells of the two of them, rich and strong, and he couldn’t but return the smile. He sank on Dean’s chest, feeling Dean’s legs wrap around his hips, a heel digging into the small of his back lightly as though wanting to push him a tad deeper… but it was impossible. There wasn’t even the chance of the pleasant friction of the knot against the soft walls of Dean’s channel. This time they were stuck more securely than any time before, and Sam guessed his knot must have swollen more than usual.

 _Mine,_ he thought as he nuzzled Dean’s jaw fondly.

Dean laughed. “Aren’t you a possessive bitch?”

Sam chuckled and nibbled Dean’s earlobe. The beating of Dean’s heart under his palm, the pulse under his lips on Dean’s neck and the heaving of Dean’s chest filled him with new hope, new faith and new courage. While they were together, nothing was impossible.

Dean caressed is back lightly. _Mine,_ resonated in Sam’s mind. He raised his head and grinned at Dean before their mouths met in a tender, slow, fond kiss.

“How are you?” Dean asked after a while, running his fingers through Sam’s hair, stopping at his dog ear. He caressed it lightly with the tip of his fingers.

“The question is mine,” Sam said, the words rough and scratchy in his throat like sand paper. “I don’t feel the pain.”

Dean shrugged his good shoulder. “Must be the painkillers and endorphins.”

Sam gave him a lopsided smile. “I should sex your brains out every time you get hurt, then.”

Dean grinned. “Bitch. You only want my ass.”

“Maybe. Jerk.”

Dean got serious again. “You know we’ll need to talk about it, right?”

Sam sighed heavily. “Yeah. But not tonight, okay? I’m tired.”

“No, not tonight. I’m tired, too.”

“Good.” Sam lowered his head to Dean’s face to kiss him again. They could do this as long as the knot held them together, one body, one soul. They both felt it, the connection, the bond, it didn’t disappear during the hunt and it most definitely strengthened through the shared experience, they just needed to dig it out from under the mud of guilt and shame, clean it with love and trust into each other and treat it with hope.

“I love you, too,” Sam whispered against Dean’s mouth between two kisses, and was rewarded with a smile and a brush of Dean’s emotions against his heart.

They had found the way back to each other. With Dean’s help and guidance Sam was able to come out of his dog comfort zone, where he was immediately met with more life than he dared to ever hope. Every Dean’s moan and every breath was a proof that Dean wasn’t going anywhere like he had been not such a long time ago. This Dean wasn’t lying in coma and slipping through Sam’s fingers. This Dean was holding tight and not letting go. This Dean was faithful to his promise to never leave. This Dean still loved Sam beyond possible, and Sam didn’t feel any different about him.

“You know,” he whispered, “I could lose myself in you and not want to find my way back.”

Dean grinned. “That pretty much describes what happened to me.”

Sam’s mouth stretched into a broad smile.

“And I love seeing hazel in your eyes again,” Dean added, his smile becoming gentler.

Sam stared for a moment, but then he realized his dog teeth were gone, just like his claws, ears and tail, only the knot was still there, holding them together.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said quietly, shame soaring through his system again.

“It’s okay. I understand,” Dean said quickly, cupping Sam’s face with his one hand and pulling him down for another healing kiss.

They fell silent after that. Sam’s head was resting on Dean’s good shoulder and his nose was pressed to the pulsing vein on his brother’s neck. Dean was caressing his back for some time, but then he put his hand loosely on the small of Sam’s back. He was exhausted, Sam could feel it, and when Dean’s legs slid from around his waist and his breathing became too even, Sam knew his brother fell asleep.

Sam wanted to stay awake until his knot finally shriveled. He had expected it to happen already, but he was still securely tied to his brother. He wondered if something went wrong or it was just the emotion overload that caused them to be stuck like this for such a long time. Sam didn’t mind it that much, it was just that he would surely wake Dean up when he pulled out. And Dean needed sleep to recuperate. Sam needed it, too, but he could stay awake a little longer.

He waited, listening to the soft sound of his brother’s breathing and concentrated on the heart pumping life into Dean’s veins. He didn’t remember when he was more thankful for anything than when Dean returned to him from the borderline between life and death.

Sam knew that Dean’s healing would take much longer than Sam’s usually did, Dean was just a human, but Sam already knew how to speed the healing up. It was good that Dean was asleep, Sam was sure he would have been mad at Sam for pushing his strengths again. Sam didn’t care as long as Dean was all right. In the end, it was his failure that cost Dean a bullet in his shoulder, so it was Sam’s duty to do something about it.

He closed his eyes and pushed his consciousness forward. There was no wall in Dean’s mind right now, nothing he wanted to protect from Sam, at least nothing he was protecting fiercely on the subconscious level, so it was easy for Sam to penetrate the sacred temple of his sleeping mind.

He found the wound quickly and mobilized the immunity system of Dean’s body to run at full power. Everything went smoothly, only he felt more and more tired. When he reached his limit, he retreated from Dean’s mind. As drained as he felt he barely realized that the knot had shrunk into its normal size. Sam pulled out, unfortunately not careful enough to not wake Dean up, but before he could even register his brother’s concerned face, he fell into the dark pit of a dreamless sleep.

He woke up to the movement by his side a couple of hours later. “Dean?”

“Shhh, puppy. ‘s all right,” he heard Dean’s raspy voice.

He yawned and opened his eyes. Dean was sitting on the bed, watching him and smiling.

“What time is it?” Sam asked.

Dean glanced at his watch lying on the bedside table. “Nine.”

“Damn! I’m late for school.” Sam sat up briskly, but it only caused him a slight nausea as his head spun. _Fuck…_

Two strong arms pushed him back in the sheets. “No school today. You look like crap. You need your beauty sleep.”

Sam admitted it was probably a good idea. “What about you?”

“I’m gonna take a shower and then find Bobby. There are a few things I want to discuss with him.”

Sam nodded and sighed in his pillow. “How are you?”

Dean smiled gently. “Better. Much better. The painkillers must still be taking effect.”

Sam smiled stealthily. “Yeah, probably.”

“Fine, sleep now,” Dean said. He bent to Sam’s face and kissed his forehead. “I’ll see you later.”

“Uhmmm,” Sam muttered and fell asleep again.

Dean found clean clothes and headed for the bathroom. Surprisingly, he felt fine and fresh after the sleep. Even his shoulder didn’t hurt – it didn’t even itch, which normally was a sign it was healing – but he was still careful not to strain it too much and definitely not to get the wound wet.

When he went down to the kitchen, Pamela greeted him with a plate loaded with toasts. Bobby was sitting at the table opposite Dean.

“How are you?” the hunter asked, giving the young man a scrutinizing look.

“Fine, thanks.”

“The shoulder.”

“Perfect. You must’ve done a good job last night,” Dean said, glancing at Pamela.

“Great,” she spoke finally. “I’ll give you a new bandage and you can eat.”

“How’s Sam?” Bobby asked while Pamela left them to bring the first aid kit.

“Better, I guess. He’s talking again,” Dean said with a little bit of concern in his tone. “But he looks as if a truck hit him. Heck, I’d say he looks even worse than before we went to sleep.”

“He was pretty freaked out…”

“I know, but… He was better. He was hurting, still is, but he’s coming to terms with what happened. It’s something else and I don’t know what it might be. I checked his emotions. He’s better on that level, but his body is totally exhausted.”

Meanwhile Pamela returned. She heard Dean’s last words, and she and Bobby exchanged a meaningful look.

“Take off your T-shirt, Dean,” she said, her voice strangely clipped.

Dean frowned a little, but did as he was told. Pamela unwound the old bandage and revealed the wound. There was nothing more than a scar tissue.

“I think here’s the answer,” she said, glancing at Bobby.

“What the hell?” Dean stared at his shoulder unbelievably.

“Did you let Sam heal your injury?” Bobby asked.

“What? No! I wouldn’t have let him anywhere near it in his state. I wouldn’t do it even now. He’s a mess.”

“Seems like he used the chance when you were asleep,” Pamela commented dryly.

Dean sighed heavily. “Fucking moron.”

“I’ll pull out the stitches,” she said, her voice strangely blank. She set to work without saying a word. Even Bobby stayed silent.

“Listen, Dean,” she spoke again after she was done pulling out the thread from his shoulder. “I’m slowly starting getting used to the fact that you two like breaking rules and it kind of still works out for you. But there are limits even for you. You weren’t comatose or going to bleed out or anything like that. Your life wasn’t in danger and you weren’t suffering in agony. There are times when he should ask for your permission…”

Dean didn’t say anything to that, glaring at the wall in front of him. He didn’t want to talk about it, but Pamela obviously didn’t get the message, because she continued.

“He did it once and maybe he was fighting with himself. But it’ll be easier next time. And as much as we know, when he heals you, he goes through your mind…” She let the implication hang in the air.

Dean winced and looked at her suspiciously. “Are you telling me he can turn into some mind control freak?”

Pamela only shrugged.

Dean turned to Bobby. “Do you think the same?”

“I think you should talk to him,” Bobby said stoically. “Even you can’t deny he went too far.”

Dean knew they were right. Sam crossed the line and broke the trust between them. They needed to talk, and not just about this, but also about what happened last night and what it meant for their future.

“Dean,” Bobby’s voice brought him back to reality. “You know I have to tell your dad what happened, don’t you?”

Chill ran up Dean’s spine as he stared at Bobby in horror. “What? No, Bobby, you can’t! He… He’ll come and take him from me! You can’t! Please, I beg you, don’t do it.”

“Dean,” Bobby addressed him with a heavy sigh. “He’s Sam’s father. He has the right to know.”

“But…”

“Dean, just think about it for a moment,” Bobby cut him off midsentence. “Where would he take him? You said yourself the safest place is here and I can only agree with you. These last few months you’ve been so focused on Sam that you lost your track of the evil outside, and I can tell you, the world’s become more dangerous than it used to be. So I don’t think John’s taking Sam anywhere from here. As for you, you know you’re welcome here and John has hardly any word in the matter who can or cannot stay under my roof. Understood?”

Dean nodded, but he didn’t seem much calmer. “When Sam gets up, send him to me, please.”

“Sure, son.”

It took Sam a couple more hours until he finally got his sweet little ass out of bed and he didn’t look much better than when he had gone to sleep. Pamela didn’t comment on his condition, but prepared a proper breakfast. Luckily, Sam was hungry enough to eat everything she put in front of him. He didn’t ask for Dean, he already knew where he was, using his Protector’s ability, and when he was done eating, he put on his shoes and still in his pajamas he sneaked out from the house.

He found Dean in the garage, bent over the trunk of the Impala, probably reorganizing the stuff there.

“Sit down, Sammy,” Dean said, not even lifting his head from his work. “We seriously need to talk.”

Sam sat down on the wooden table, his feet resting on the bench. “Is it the last night?” he asked. He didn’t feel like talking about it right now. He’d got up just a while ago for Christ’s sake.

Dean ignored his displeasure, putting something back into the trunk. Sam glimpsed the handle of his own gun. First time in a real action and the damn thing had hurt his Warrior. Sam wasn’t sure he’d take it in his hands ever again. A different gun, sure, but not that one.

Dean wiped his hands in a cloth and sat down on the table next to Sam, careful so that their bodies didn’t come to contact. That meant he didn’t want Sam to know how he felt for some reason.

“I noticed my wound is gone,” Dean started, not looking at his brother.

Sam scratched in his hair awkwardly. “Yeah…”

“Why? I wasn’t dying or comatose like the last time and you were already pretty worn out, so I wanna know why you risked your life to heal an insignificant wound.” This time Dean turned to Sam, his expression strict.

“Insignificant?” Sam asked unbelievingly. “You’re kidding, right? The fucker short you! It was my fault it happened and it was my responsibility to fix it.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Are you really so dumb?”

Sam held his breath in surprise, then glared and growled quietly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean it was my fault. I didn’t pay attention. I know how such a madman’s mind works, but I still wasn’t careful enough. He took me by surprise, pulled the gun out of my pocket and shot me. End of story. It has nothing to do with you. To be honest, you saved my life. If you hadn’t acted so fast, I would’ve ended up with a bullet in my brain. Or heart.”

Sam bit his lip, looking away. It was hard for him to accept the truth. In his eyes, Dean didn’t make mistakes. Not mistakes like this. Dean was a hero. Dean was someone who Sam looked up to.

“I killed him. Because I thought for a moment that was exactly what he’d done to you. I killed him because I wanted to avenge you, because it felt like the only right thing to do. I never felt such bloodlust before and it scares me,” Sam said in a small, ashamed voice.

“I know,” Dean said quietly. “That’s the fate of a Protector.”

Sam shook his head vigorously. “No. It shouldn’t have happened. I disdained him, but… It was an unnecessary death, but don’t tell me it was insignificant…”

“No, it wasn’t. Every life counts.”

Sam turned to Dean, and there was fire in his eyes. “Exactly. Just like every wound counts. It was unnecessary, but not insignificant. I did right.”

“No, you didn’t.” Strictness crept back into Dean’s voice. “You invaded the private space of my mind when I was most vulnerable and took that decision to be or not to be healed from me. There’s nothing right about it, Sam. Besides, you risked your own life. I know it costs you energy…”

“I didn’t risk anything!” Sam cried, irritated and frustrated. He still wasn’t aware of having done anything wrong. “When I felt it was enough, I stopped. That’s why there’s still a scar!”

“And you’re letting it heal all by itself.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Sam snorted. “Because you’re so adult…”

“Because you’re such a kid,” Dean said, anger slipping into his voice as well.

“I’m your Protector,” Sam didn’t let it go. “It was my job…”

“And I’m yours and it wasn’t. Not without my permission.”

“You were in pain!”

“So you should have rolled on the other side of the bed and left me alone. I can deal with my own pain.”

“But… It’s not right! It’s not how it’s supposed to be!” Sam protested energetically. He wasn’t going to give up so easily. He never did. Not when it concerned Dean.

“That’s enough!” Dean exclaimed, silencing Sam effectively this time. “Listen up. I screwed up. I wasn’t careful and it was MY fault that I got shot, not yours. You saved my life, that’s what Protectors do. You did your job great. It’s my fault and no one else’s that you got scared that you had lost me and killed him, but let me tell you, it wasn’t an unnecessary death. If you hadn’t done it, I would have at some point. If we’d let him go, he would’ve been a constant threat for us, especially for you. Understand, I wouldn’t be able to leave it like that. He HAD to die. The only thing I’m sorry about is that it was you who took his life. THAT wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be me or Bobby, not you. Do you hear me?”

Sam only nodded silently. He didn’t expect such an outburst.

“Fine,” Dean inhaled finally, but it looked like he was just getting ready for a new waterfall of words. “As for healing the wound, Sammy, I KNOW how it works for you. I know it costs you energy and I know you go through mind at the very beginning. Maybe you were careful and didn’t push yourself too much, but you can’t do it whenever you want. You violated my privacy for NOTHING just because you decided so. Sam, you…” Dean ran a hand over his face in frustration. “You need to learn to distinguish when your help is appreciated and when not,” he said in a calmer tone finally.

Sam bit his lower lip. He could have argued, could have said it was bullshit and Dean had been hurt and in pain and it was SAM’S FRIGGIN’ DUTY to bring him relief, but he knew it would only rile Dean up even more. So he stayed silent, not moving, not looking at his brother, until Dean shifted closer, his thigh pressing firmly to Sam’s, and Sam could feel the flow of his feelings. Dean was annoyed, but he loved Sam and was ready to forgive him.

Sam sighed heavily and leaned into Dean. An arm wrapped around his shoulders and he relaxed into the embrace.  

“One more thing,” Dean said gravely after a while. Sam could feel his concern and he got nervous himself.

“What is it?” he asked, worried.

“It’s Dad. Bobby wants to tell him what happened. He says Dad has the right to know.”  

Sam pulled away, staring at Dean. “But…”

Dean took Sam’s face in his hands. “No one is taking you away from me, I’ll see about that,” he said determinedly and pressed his forehead to his brother’s.

Sam gave a sigh of relief. “But what if…”

“No. You’re staying with me.”

A small smile curled Sam’s lips. It was all he needed to hear. As long as he was with Dean, nothing was so bad.

Dean pulled him a tad closer and pressed a slow, gentle kiss on his mouth. Sam went willingly, allowing himself to forget the mess in which they were.

When their mouths parted after some time, Dean was smiling. “Is there a reason why you’re still in PJ?”

Sam shrugged. “Other than I was too lazy to change?”

Dean laughed and Sam would have sworn it was the most beautiful sound in the whole universe. He loved Dean’s laughter.

 


	24. John Winchester’s Journal

 

Sam and Dean returned back into the house. Bobby looked irritated about something, but he tried to hide it from the boys, so it couldn’t be them. After Sam finally got changed and ready for the day, their little family (or a pack as Sam loved to think about it) got together in the living room and tried to come to the best solution concerning Sam’s school. In the end, all of them agreed Sam should return there, check the situation, talk to the girl, and if there was nothing endangering his safety, he should finish the year at least. Then they would decide what would be the next step.

Sam wasn’t very optimistic about the new day. Not because there could be a new threat waiting for him, he wasn’t afraid, but he was nervous about meeting Samantha, though he knew it was necessary. Not only because they shared most of their classes, but also because he needed to find out if she told anyone about him.

Dean, Bobby and Pamela accompanied him. While the hunter and the former Protector patrolled outside the school, making sure no one suspicious passed the school gates, Dean infiltrated into the school, always finding a safe place or pretending he was one of the students if necessary in order to stay as close to Sam as possible in case his brother needed him. He had his new cell phone he had bought just a couple of days ago as though he had anticipated that he would need it later with him. That way he had a connection with Bobby as well. Pamela didn’t have a phone, but Bobby found an old and still working walkie-talkie so that he could communicate with her. Sam was supposed to tune to his brother, and Sam had no problem to do that, feeling more courageous and safer when he felt his brother’s presence close.

First thing on his to do list was to talk to Samantha, but she was successfully avoiding him. When he tried to stop her in a corridor during a break, she told him she didn’t want to talk to him and walked away. More than about his exposure Sam was worried about having lost his best friend.

In the end, he managed to catch her shortly before the end of the lunch break.

“What do you want, Sam?” she asked him, annoyed.

“Just talk. Please. Hear me out.”

She rolled her eyes. “Make it quick. I don’t have time.”

“Look, I know that you’re freaked out…” Sam started.

“Yes, I was. But that’s not the problem here,” she said coldly.

Sam started. “Then what?”

“You lied to me,” she said. “You never told me who you really were. I feel like I’ve never known you, because you didn’t give me the chance. And that hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said quietly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I figured,” she said, suddenly sounding helpless. “I just don’t want to get into something I don’t understand and would bring me in danger. I really got scared when the guy attacked you…” Her eyes glistened with wetness, but she didn’t cry.

Sam chanced a step closer, but when she didn’t move, he took her into his arms, hugging her gently.

“I know,” he said in a soft voice. “I got scared myself. The reason why I never told you was that I need to keep my true identity secret so that I wasn’t attacked like that on daily bases.”

She nodded, snuggling closer. “What did he want from you?”

“My essence. He lost his and he thought I’d stolen it.”

“Why would he think something like that?”

“Dean said he had been crazy. That losing his essence had drawn him mad. Now Dean’s worried someone else could come after me…” He let the implication hang in the air.

Samantha pulled away from him, looking him in the eyes. “I didn’t tell anyone, but you should be more careful about showing your claws in public,” she said in a serious tone.

“I know. It was stupid of me, but I needed to defend myself. And you. I was afraid he could hurt you.”

She granted him with the very first smile that day. “I’m fine.”

Sam smiled back. “We okay?”

“If you promise you won’t lie to me again, then yes,” she said.

“I wasn’t lying. I just couldn’t tell you,” Sam protested.

“Fine, I get it. It still hurt.”

“Sorry.”

She shrugged. “We should hurry or we’ll be late for the class.”

Sam grinned, but before he left with her, he looked around for Dean, noticing him in a distant crowd. Dean was watching him. Sam gave him a broad smile and he knew Dean would feel his emotions even if Sam couldn‘t feel his.

After a second or two Dean nodded his acknowledgment and disappeared in the crowd.

The day went by peacefully. Just like the other one. Sam stopped looking over his shoulder every now and then, happy that he had his friend back. Dean didn’t stop watching over him, but at first Pamela and then also Bobby stopped accompanying them.

It took Sam some time to persuade Dean to spend the lunch break with him once he was lurking around the school, but when Dean finally agreed it felt like old times when they were younger. Sometimes Samantha joined them, but mostly she spent the break with the rest of their friends, giving the boys the privacy they wanted.

The only disadvantage of these new arrangements were Dean’s departures to the town in the evening in order to get some money while Sam was doing his homework. If Dean had some regular job or won them in a game of pool and poker, Sam didn’t know. At least it gave Bobby an opportunity to talk to the younger boy.

“Do you have an idea what would you like to do when you finish high school?” the hunter asked him one evening while Sam was watching TV in the living room, waiting for Dean to return from his errand.

Sam shrugged. “Stay with Dean,” he said simply.

“You wanna hunt?”

“It’s not like I can avoid it, can I?”

“I don’t think so,” Bobby admitted. “But what would you like to do?”

Sam gave him a long, scrutinizing look, and then said with a heavy sigh, “Go to college.”

Bobby smiled. “Now that’s an ambition.”

“Yeah, but…”

“But?”

“Many things changed,” Sam said sadly.

“Like what?”

Sam looked at Bobby, trying to figure out whether the hunter was making fun of him or he was dead serious. “The last three days? The Protector’s attack? Demons out there?”

Bobby took a deep breath. “Let me tell you something, Sam. There have always been demons out there. The important thing is that you know how to fight them. The attack? Was something new and unsettling, but nothing what couldn’t be expected. I can’t hold you here your whole life. Your father can’t hold you here. You’ll reach adulthood soon and you should be able to take care of yourself by then. The question is what you want to do with your life. You know what the real world looks like and you’ll be prepared. I don’t expect you to have a peaceful life without monsters in it, but you have a great hunter by your side and you two can do whatever you want. Troubles will always find you, but you don’t need to look for them. Think about the possibilities you have. I’d say if you want to go to college, work your ass off, don’t fail your tests and go to college. Get a diploma and find a job. Have a life you want.”

Sam curled up in a ball where he was sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch behind his back. “That all sounds nice,” he said, “but what about Dean? He needs a fight and I doubt he’d want to stop hunting.”

“I never said ‘stop hunting’,” Bobby replied. “And I doubt there is a chance to stop completely, anyway, so this problem should be solved. For Dean would be best if he finished his school, took a course, tried evening classes, anything, to get some qualification and get a real job, too. Many colleges provide housings in their campuses for couples. You could try to apply for that. The only condition is to be in a committed relationship, and who is more committed than you two? You’d be together and actually DOING something with your life. It’s a big chance for both of you.”

Sam didn’t look at Bobby. Hugging his knees, he was thinking about the tempting possibility that was laid in front of him. “What about Dad?” he asked after a while. “He won’t agree.”

“It’s your life, Sam, not his. I know he’s trying to protect you, but he can’t do it your whole life. You’re old enough to be responsible for yourself. Once you’ll reach adulthood, he won’t be able to hold you back anymore.”

“And Dean? He won’t like it.”

“Your brother wants what’s best for you. He understands that it would be a shame if you don’t even try to make something out of your life at least. He’s proud of you. But he can be a dumbass, because he’s worried about your safety. But he needs to understand you’re a team, you’re equal and as much as he wants to keep you safe, you want to do the same for him. That’s why you should talk about this as soon as possible. You have the last year of high school before you, so it’s just about time to have a serious conversation and figure out what both of you want and what you can do. I only think that if you really want to go to college, you should try to get to college. Even Dean can’t deny that to you. You have my full support.”

“Thanks,” Sam managed to say as he stretched his long legs in front of him, when he suddenly heard the familiar compilation of sounds from outside: the purr of the engine that was cut off, the creak of the door open and slam of it shut. Sam jumped up to his feet, the whole conversation with Bobby forgotten in an instant, and bolted out of the living room.

Bobby only smiled and shook his head. Sometimes, Sam’s behavior was too doggish.

Sam ran out of the house and right into Dean’s embrace.

“Hey, pup,” Dean greeted him with a grin before he kissed him long and deep.

It was the same ritual every day, and even if Sam wanted to control his excitement, he always got overwhelmed by the pure dog joy of seeing his master and best friend back home. He simply couldn’t help it.

“The run?” Dean asked.

“Hell yes!” Sam said with a grin.

Dean untangled from Sam’s freakishly long arms, opened the trunk and handed Sam a Taurus. Sam had refused to take his Colt in his hands and Dean figured it must have been the trauma the attack caused. He didn’t try to persuade Sam, not yet at least. He wanted to give him more time to process. But it was a shame if the gun stayed unused just because Dean had been shot by it.

Sam took the gun, shoved it behind the waistband of his jeans on his back and hid it under his T-shirt. Dean did the same with his Colt. They were ready.

The habit to carry guns with them while going for a run had stayed with them ever since Bobby and Pamela had allowed them to go for their very first run without her company. Dean was thinking about stopping it and take only a knife with him in case something happened, but after the attack he dismissed the idea. Better safe than sorry.

Sam still loved running: the joy of movement, the wind in his hair, the illusion of freedom. And ever since had Dean replaced Pamela in her duty as a supervisor over Sam’s safety, the activity became more fun.

While they were out, Bobby made a few phone calls. One number never picked up and he was getting nervous.

“Nothing again?” Pamela asked.

“No. I’m afraid something happened to him, but no hospital can give me any information about John Doe or a guy using any of his fake names to be accepted dead or alive.”

“Maybe he just can’t pick up…”

“If he can’t, it means he’s in trouble. I called a few buddies, but they have no clue, either.”

“He couldn’t just disappear,” Pamela said, convinced.

Bobby sighed. “The problem is he could.”

He picked up the phone again and dialed another number.

Days were going by until there was only one week until Sam’s summer break. Dean wanted to change the environment for some time, thinking that it would do good especially to Sam, who had worked hard that term and passed his SAT tests with excellent results (Dean hadn’t expected anything less from his little brother). Now it was time for fun. Bobby had nothing against the plan, but he refused to join the boys, saying he had something to do while they were gone. Dean suspected him of a hunt. Even Bobby had his needs as he thought. It never occurred to Dean that a Warrior who lost his or her Protector felt no need for a fight anymore.

But there was one little Warrior who probably did. Dean called the Harvelles and Ellen agreed immediately to join the boys for the trip together with her daughter. At least Sam would get some practice with someone to whom his restraints didn’t apply and give Jo her fight. Dean already teased Sam that he would get his butt kicked by a younger girl. As far as he knew, Jo was good, very good. He had the pleasure to train with her a few times when he had been hanging around, killing time, while Ash had been doing some work for John. In many ways, Jo reminded Dean of Sam. She was sassy, sometimes bitchy, but strong and proud, sometimes self-conscious, but ready to fight for herself, her loved ones and her beliefs with everything she had. She would have been a great Warrior if she had been given the chance.

It had been more than a month already since Bobby had mentioned John , and Dean wondered what was new in that matter, because he had heard nothing about Dad since that day. If Bobby had spoken with him, he didn’t tell Dean, and Dean avoided asking. He knew that if there was something he should know, Bobby would tell him. On the other hand, Bobby looked more nervous than usual, he was grumpier and less patient and Dean had no clue what it could possibly mean except nothing good. He wanted to ask about it, but not when Sammy was around and they were together practically 24/7.

It was the evening before the last day of school when Bobby got a call from his friend Rufus.

“You take care of your brother,” he said to Dean as he packed his shotgun and a clean shirt in a duffel bag.

“When don’t I?” Dean asked, concern slipping into his voice. “What’s up, Bobby?”

The hunter looked at him and Sam and his expression became gentler for a moment before he frowned .“I hope nothing,” he answered in a tone that told Dean there was no point in asking anymore. He wouldn’t get the answer.

“Bobby,” Pamela stopped him in the doorway.

“It was the call I waited for,” Bobby said gravely and hurried to his car.

“What was that about?” Dean asked as the three of them watched the old junker disappear on the horizon. “He was on edge for more than a month and now he takes off? What’s up, Pam?” Dean turned to the woman that had become a part of their little family a long time ago and sometimes Dean suspected her to be more than friends with Bobby.

“I wish I knew,” she only said and strolled into the kitchen to get herself beer.

The summer break started and Bobby still didn’t return. There was a couple of days remaining until Sam and Dean’s hiking trip when Dean got a call from Bobby to pack and come to Rufus. He said it was important.

Dean listened to Bobby on the other side of the line carefully while he tightened his arm around Sam’s waist. They were composing a list of the things they shouldn’t forget for their trip, and even though neither of them actually needed it, they enjoyed doing it anyway just out of sheer joy of having free time and spending it together.

“Can I take Sammy with me?” Dean asked, tangling his fingers in Sam’s shirt as a resolute ‘no’ sounded in his ear. Then Bobby sighed into the receiver, saying in a gentler tone:

“It’s not a good idea.”

“Okay,” Dean said meekly. “Will I come back?”

Sam was watching him the whole time, holding his breath, eyes fixed on Dean’s face.

“Definitely,” Bobby said resolutely, and Dean gave a sigh of relief. Sam apparently picked up on his emotions and calmed down, too.

Dean finished the call and looked at Sam with a long sigh. “You heard,” he said gravely.

“Yeah… But you’re coming back. Soon. Right?” Sam was making sure.

“I don’t know how soon, but I will,” Dean said, trusting Bobby’s word. “Anyway, I doubt it’ll take months.”

Sam gave Dean a small, sad smile.

Dean pressed his hand to Sam’s cheek. The little brother leaned into the touch, his eyes locked with Dean’s.

“Can I go? Will you be okay?” Dean asked in a low voice.

Sam chuckled. “Are you seriously asking me for permission?”

Dean shrugged with no trace of amusement.

Sam got serious, too. “Go. I’ll be fine.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on Dean’s lips.

And so Dean went. Sam watched the Impala until it disappeared from his sight, and even then he stood by the gate of the salvage yard, expecting the nausea and pain take over him as usual. It didn’t strike him in such an extent as it used to, though. He had a headache, all right, but otherwise he was fine.  

Not more than an hour later his phone rang. He picked up with a wide grin. "Hey," he said into the receiver.

"Hey, pup," Dean's voice answered. "How are you?"

Sam smiled. "Better than I remember to ever be after you left. Just a headache, but it's all right." And even the headache ceased a little when he could hear Dean's voice.

"Glad to hear that," Dean said, and Sam could imagine him smiling. "I thought I'd need to stop in a motel until I got better, to sleep the pain off or whatever, but I'm all right."

Suddenly, something occurred to Sam. "Are you driving?"

There was a sigh on the other side of the line, telling Sam Dean knew perfectly well why Sam was asking. "Yes," came the answer.

"You shouldn't be phoning and driving."

"Don't be a bitch about it, Sammy. I can multitask, I'm used to it."

Sam snorted into the receiver. "You stop being a jerk, hang up, stop on the side of the road if you can and call me back."

He could hear Dean's heavy, exaggerated sigh. "Fine."

After a minute or so Sam's phone rang again.

"Safe on the side of the road. Satisfied?" Dean asked, sounding annoyed, but Sam knew he wasn't in reality.

"Yes," he said with a satisfied grin and chuckled down the line, knowing Dean wouldn’t even try to keep that tone.

"So..." Dean started, "you still fine?"

"Still," Sam assured him. "You?"

"I'm good. Really good. Huh..."

"Why do you think it's suddenly like this? What changed?"

"You told me to go and that you'd be fine, and I trusted you. It's just a couple of days."

Sam thought about it for a moment. "Maybe that's it. We know we're going to be together soon. Bobby promised you'd come back..."

"Sammy..." The tone of Dean's voice was soft and gentle, and Sam could hear the deep affection in it.

"I know," he said with a smile. "Love you, too."

Dean laughed cheerfully. "Bitch."

"Jerk." Sam grinned and hung up.

After an hour Dean called Sam again. And one more time later that day. He called him the last time when he arrived to Rufus's place and before he found out why Bobby wanted him to come. He didn't call Sam after that, firstly, because Sam would have known that something was terribly wrong and, secondly, because Dean was unable to tell him without breaking into pieces. It wasn't something that should be discussed through a phone, anyway.

Dad was dead.

Dean was there to confirm his identity and take the body from the morgue for the "funeral". As John's body burned on a pyre, Dean couldn’t but think of the day when he had made his decision, letting his father go all by himself to hunt those sons of bitches that robbed Protectors of their essences. He should have gone with him; he would have been able to protect him that way and maybe Dad would have been still alive.

Long after the fire burned out, Dean was still standing there with no tears in his eyes but heaviness in his heart, guilt and pain, and when Bobby came to persuade him to go inside and have a drink for the third time, he got into the Impala without uttering a word and drove to the nearest bar to get drunk stupid. Bobby found him after no more than two hours and hauled him into his car despite Dean's weak protest and got him back to Rufus’s. He told him Sam had called, worried, because he felt something was wrong with Dean and couldn't reach him on the phone, so he got scared and called Bobby. As Dean heard Sam's name, the feelings of shame and guilt, intensified by the effect of the alcohol, took over Dean. He wept as he puked into the bucket Rufus brought him so that Dean didn't dirty the floor.

"What am I supposed to tell Sammy?" Dean cried in his drunkenness while Bobby was trying to get him to bed.

"Truth," the hunter said, and that was it. Dean only nodded numbly and went to sleep so that he faced Sam with at least some dignity. Of course, he could ask Bobby to do it for him, and Bobby would have told Sam, sparing Dean the torture, even though he thought it was Dean's place to break Sam the bad news. Though, Dean didn't ask for the favor, and Bobby didn't make an offer.

Still, things didn't go the way both Dean and Bobby hoped. Sam ran out of the house, anxious and worried. He didn't throw himself in Dean's arms as he usually did. He stopped just a few paces away, all tense and watching his brother cautiously as though he expected Dean to do something incomprehensible. Bobby better left them alone. It was their problem, their suffering.

"What...?" Sam started in a small, frightened voice.

"Sammy, Dad's dead," Dean said without a preamble, pain of loss and grief taking over him.

Sam's eyes widened. "How?"

"Demons."

They stared at each other for a long time. Dean could feel the storm of Sam's feelings, the shock, the sadness, but the strongest one was his worry about his brother pushing away everything else. Dean wondered if Sam was even able of grief for anyone but his Warrior...

"Dean," Sam moaned in a tortured voice perfectly reflecting Dean's pain, and Dean knew what was coming. He held his hands out protectively.

“No, stay were you are,” he commanded before Sam could even make a move in his direction.

Sam whined. “Dean, please. I can help. I can reduce the pain…”

“Fuckdammit, Sam!” Dean yelled, surprising both of them. He felt like a bundle of nerves, his breathing fast, hands fisted, ready to start giving punches. “I don’t want you to take my pain! I want you to feel your own! Don’t you understand?” He stared at his little brother, who looked hurt and uncomprehending. “No, of course, you don’t understand. You’re not able to,” Dean said in defeat. “You don’t care about anyone else but your Warrior.”

It was a serious accusation, and maybe it was true in it’s very core, but even Dean knew that things were more complicated. Sam loved his small pack and cared about its members. He even loved Dad in his own rebellious way, but Dean always came first, and if Dean wasn’t all right, Sam pushed everything else away. Even his own emotions. Despite knowing all of that, Dean couldn’t help himself. Sam’s concern riled him up and he wanted to ridicule it, make it dubious, because why should anyone care about Dean and his grief if Dad was dead and that was a big deal itself and therefore Sam should be a wreck, giving in to his own sadness, wailing in Dean’s arms, and they both should be crying like babies somewhere dark and private, seeking comfort in each other’s sorrow? But no, Sam totally didn’t care about the fact his father, the person that conceived him and loved him and cared about him his whole life, was nothing more than ashes now. Sam only cared about taking Dean’s pain, making breathing possible again.

But Dean didn’t want it. He wanted to deal with his emotions alone, however broken he felt. And Sam like this, so willing and even begging for making it all more bearable for his Warrior, felt like betrayal to everything that connected them to Dad.

“You know what? Leave me alone,” Dean said – _growled_ – got into his car and started the engine to Sam’s dismay.

“Dean!”

Dean, deliberately deaf to Sam’s calling, stepped on the gas, and the Impala moved to the exit from the salvage yard.

“Dean!!!”

The shout brought Pamela to check what was going on outside. Sam was standing there, looking lost. He whined, glanced at her, and she noticed a flash in his eye. He literally tore the shirt from his body and was about to continue with his pants.

“Sam, no!”

But Sam didn’t listen to her. Next moment a German Shepherd got rid of the last pieces of clothing and started running to the gate and out from the salvage yard in the pursue of the car.

“Damn!” she cursed and hurried back into the house. “Bobby! Dean took off and Sam ran after him. We need to bring him back.”

Sam might have been a swift runner. He might have been even faster when worry and insecurity gnawed at him and it was his Warrior he was after. But it didn’t mean he was fast enough to avoid a potential danger. It was even more likely he was running right into it.

The two adults got into Bobby’s car and drove to the town where they expected Dean to end up in one of the bars while they were scanning the surroundings for any trace of Sam, but the dog boy must have taken the shortest path to the town through woods. The “GPS” in his head brought him unerringly to his Warrior, no matter where Dean finally stopped. He couldn’t hide from Sam even if he wanted.

In the end, Sam found him in the first bar he came across. Dean just made an order, waiting for his drink. Double whiskey.

Sam sneaked closer. Dean ran a hand over the smooth glass, not lifting it to his mouth yet. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes meeting Sam’s. He didn’t even look surprised.

Sam came to him, watching and waiting, his tail waving slightly from side to side with nerves. He got that Dean was mad, he just didn’t know why and that pissed Dean off even more.

“What part of ‘leave me alone’ didn’t you understand?” he asked grumpily.

Sam whined quietly and sat down next to Dean’s chair.

“Whatever,” Dean said, picking the glass and taking the first sip from it. “They’re coming to take you home, anyway.”

“Sorry, pal, but dogs are not allowed inside,” the bartender told him.

“No worries, he’ll be gone soon.”

“Seriously, dude, take him out.”

Sam growled warningly. Dean rolled his eyes, turning to him.

“Shut up,” he ordered. “You were supposed to stay home. Bitch…”

That was when Bobby and Pamela barged in with apparent relief reflecting in their faces. Dean turned to his glass, looking as indifferent as possible.

“Sam,” Pamela called the dog, but Sam sat there ostentatiously and didn’t move from Dean’s side, still hypnotizing him, asking the same question in the nonverbal way, _What have I done to you?_ Dean could feel the accusation, the little brother felt offended with his sudden takeoff. He absolutely didn’t understand why Dean was annoyed with him and Dean didn’t feel like explaining anything to him. It would have been pointless, anyway.

“Go, Sam, I’ll take it from here,” Bobby said and pushed the dog lightly in Pamela’s direction. Sam gave him and uncertain look, than glanced at Dean, who didn’t make an effort to react anyhow, and so he stood up and walked to Pamela slowly, throwing glances over his shoulder as he went.

“Hey!” Bobby threw Pamela the keys from his car. “Take him home.”

Pamela only nodded and opened the door for Sam to go out. Sam left the bar with lowered head and ears hanging down, walking as slowly as he could. Pamela didn’t rush him, she didn’t needed an argument with a teenager, and Sam was going to get to the car anyway, so why to bother?

As the door behind the woman and the dog closed, Dean smirked at the bartender. “Told ya he’d be gone soon,” he said sassily.

Bobby sat down on a stool beside him, but when the bartender asked him what he wanted to drink, he only waved his hand in refusal.

Dean was quiet, waiting for the hunter to start. If Bobby wanted to tell him something, Dean would listen, but it didn’t mean he was supposed to start the conversation.

“You’re hard on Sam,” Bobby said after a while.

“I just don’t feel like dealing with him right now. Is that a crime?” Dean asked defiantly.

“No,” Bobby said calmly. “I just wonder if the reason why you’re so pissed at him isn’t just your way to cope with guilt.”

Dean didn’t even raise his head from the drink. “You think I feel guilty?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Bobby pointed out. “Dean, you’re not responsible for what happened to your father…”

“Thanks for reminding me,” Dean said sarcastically, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a proper swig.

“Dean,” Bobby started again, but was cut off.

“Bobby, if I’d been there, I could have done something and maybe he would be alive. Sam was okay, he’s always been okay with you, he didn’t need me. Dad did.”

Bobby watched the earnest face and the tortured look of the green eyes. “That’s crap. Your father was an adult man, he made his decision. If you had been with him, maybe he would have lived, maybe he wouldn’t have, maybe you both would have died. Maybe the demon would have used you as his leverage. The one who truly needed you was Sam. And now he needs you more than ever.”

Dean gazed at Bobby. “What do you mean ‘more than ever’?”

“You’re his closest adult relative, so you’re taking full responsibility for him.”

Dean beckoned to the bartender to pour him another shot. “I thought I’d already done that,” he commented dryly.

“You got the taste of it, yes, but in case of some serious trouble, or if I hadn’t agreed with any of your decisions, I was the one who had the last word in the matter. Your father came to _me_ and gave _me_ all the rights of a parent while he was gone. But with his death the agreement lost its validation. The duties passed on you in their whole extent. Sam’s your kid now, and I may disagree with you, but up from now the final decision is always yours.”

Dean rubbed his forehead in frustration. It was too much to deal with in such a short time after the old man’s death. “Terrific inheritance,” he sighed heavily over his drink. “I became a parent of the teenager who doesn’t even care about the death of his own father…”

“Don’t be unfair. Protectors ain’t cold machines with only one program. They are able of strong emotions all right. It’s just their Warriors come first and to do their duties right they push their sufferings away. They are pretty much the slaves of their DNA that puts them in the subordinate position,” Bobby tried to explain and hoped that Dean would understand and forgive Sam his inability of an emotional breakdown.

“That sucks,” Dean said blankly, but Bobby noticed the tight grip on his glass.

“It does,” Bobby agreed, “but they can’t help it. That’s who they are. Now imagine you’re not blood relatives and Sam’s father dies. It’s not your father and as long as you’re all right, Sam can give in to his sorrow somewhere in private until the time you will need him. You need your Protector strong, not a bundle of nerves.”

“What I need is Sam showing at least a lick of emotion about what happened,” Dean grunted and drank down his second glass, asking for the third one, but Bobby sent the bartender away. Dean didn’t even react to that.

“Dean, as long as you’re grieving, he can’t. The only thing he’s able to do right now is take your pain and cry for you.”

“What if I don’t want him to? What if I want to break down? What if I want him to cry WITH me and not FOR me?” Dean turned to Bobby with fire in his eyes and venom on his tongue. “If he’s unable to do that, then I want him to fuck off and leave me alone.”

Bobby longed for a drink himself, but one of them needed to stay sober and be able to drive. He got what Dean was trying to tell him, Bobby could remember similar arguments with Karen, though less heated. Usually, he had told her not to interfere with his feelings and she had respected that. Their situation had been a little different as well since the two of them hadn’t been related and the circle of their mutual friends had been quite small. However, the life with a Protector wasn’t easy. Their devotion could be suffocating sometimes.

“You can do it,” Bobby said. “But try to use gentler words and use them in a calmer way. Sam will be climbing walls, but you’ll have your time to deal with yourself and he won’t bother you.”

“He’s a little fucker,” Dean growled, but something else crept into his voice. Bobby knew the boy – young man – reached the point of breaking. “I love him, but sometimes he’s too much.”

“I know,” Bobby said softly. “You can trust me, there’ll be more.”

Dean pushed the empty glass away and grinned sorrowfully. “Let’s go home.”

“Let’s.”

Sam waited for them, sitting in the doorway of the house, but there was no trace of joy when Dean and Bobby finally turned up, just relief. He stood up as Bobby parked the Impala in the yard, watching the two of them getting out from the car. His eyes met Dean’s just for a brief moment before he turned around and disappeared in the house. Dean could feel his presence close by anyway as he and Bobby entered and continued into the living room.

Bobby went right for his whiskey supplies. He put a glass on his huge desk and poured himself a generous amount of the golden liquor. He didn’t offer Dean any, though.

“I have something for you,” he said after he drank a little.

“What?”

Bobby opened one of the drawers and produced a thick notebook. Dean recognized it right away.

“Dad’s journal!” he cried.

“Yep. Now it’s yours.”

Dean took it into his hands reverently. He sat down on the couch and started flipping through the pages, finding many interesting things concerning Dad’s hunts, personal notes, newspaper clippings, pictures, and old photos of their family. There was a photo of Mary, standing in the kitchen by the counter and baking pie. She was looking into the camera, smiling and looking happy. On another photo she was holding little Sammy reaching out for his six-year-old big brother. There was a photo of Dean and Sammy on Sam’s first day at school. Dean was grinning into the camera while Sammy was looking at him adoringly. Dean remembered how Sam had never wanted to let any outsider close to his big brother. That time he had thought that Sam had only wanted to be annoying, but now he looked at that differently. What if that had been Little Sammy’s way to protect his Warrior? Even in the innocent times of Sam’s childhood Dean could see clearly the fierce love reflecting in his brother’s eyes, and it would have been hypocritical not to admit he didn’t like that. Sam’s love always helped him to go on when times felt too dark even for Dean Winchester. It was the light that showed him the way out from the darkness in which he was losing himself.

Only now he was lingering in that darkness willingly, because he didn’t want to pollute the purest of the hearts with his anger, hopelessness, guilt, and bloodthirstiness. Sam still knew so little…

Dean looked at the last photo. It was a snapshot of him and Sam sparring. Dean had no idea that such a photo had ever been taken, but here it was, and he didn’t even need to look at it closely to see that despite the fact he and Sam were out in the yard where anyone could see them, the moment itself was private. Dean had never seen a picture that had captured how much he and Sam meant for each other better. Not that he saw many of their photos, of course. But this one was special. There was no pretense; everything they felt was perfectly reflecting in their gleaming eyes and wide grins, maybe their hands weren’t exactly where they should have been, and they both were _glowing_ with joy and happiness. And also with something else…

Now Dean could see it clearly. Even if he couldn’t have guessed how old they were in the photo, he would have been able to say with certainty that it was taken AFTER he and Sam made love for the first time. With stabbing obviousness Dean could see young lovers, not really understanding how tightly they were bound to each other, totally oblivious to the shadow of determination in each other’s expression: ‘You and never anyone else, let the world be damned’.

Maybe that was the true reason behind all Dad’s efforts to keep them apart. He didn’t want them to be too distracted with each other and see further than to each other’s ass when they buried into each other’s body in the heat of passion. Now Dean could finally see they had crossed a certain line that could bring them death if they got carried away. The picture, though lovely and bringing good memories, was also scary in its meaning. It was a lesson that they love could be dangerous to them if they surrendered to it too much. It was a clear warning ‘Love, but don’t let love turn you blind and deaf to the rest of the world.’

“He knew I was coming here behind his back, didn’t he?” he asked.

“Yes,” Bobby replied without hesitation, not needing to ask who Dean was talking about.

“He never said anything.”

“He wasn’t an idiot. He knew you could be truly happy only with Sam around, he was just afraid what it could mean.”

“He wasn’t mad because I loved Sam…” Dean continued in his musing.

“I guess not.”

“He was because for him I was willing to walk away from his revenge mission.”

Bobby didn’t say anything to that.

“It was important to him to find the killer.”

“Too important.”

“And he found him. And died.”

“What will you do?” Bobby asked matter-of-factly and sipped from his glass.

Dean sighed. “I don’t know.” He opened the journal on the first page and started reading.

Sam didn’t turn up in the living room the whole evening, even though Dean could feel him very close. It was about ten when he registered the change in his brother’s location in the house. Sam withdrew into their room, and he was probably reading a book or something. Dean tried to block him out, he was fed up with Sam’s worry about him, but he was still too riled up and unfocused to be able to do it properly. After midnight there was numbness spreading through Dean’s system and he really didn’t feel like trying to figure out if it was because Sam was finally asleep or because he was already too tired. Bobby went to sleep an hour ago, stretched out on the spare bed he had in the room and used it as his own ever since Pamela had moved into the guest room and Sam had been put into Bobby’s room after that.

Dean rubbed his eyes and focused on the lines again. It was too much information for one evening, but it was Dad’s life and Dean wasn’t going to rest until he read it all.

Only that he woke up late in the morning, feeling even more tired than the day before. He didn’t see much of Sam that day, mostly because he spent most of it with his nose stuck in the journal or some of Bobby’s books to check some information and didn’t bother to raise his head from the stuff even when he felt Sam close. Sam didn’t try to talk to him, either, however the air was saturated with his worry.

The next day wasn’t much different. Dean was still reading the journal, while Sam’s worry was turning into sulking. At the end of the day Dean could hear an angry slam of the door upstairs. He fell asleep on the couch again, pretty pissed about it in the morning. Except the John’s hunting experiences, hexes, curses, and a lot of useful stuff if you were a hardcore hunter Dean found a lot of personal stuff written down over the years, John’s innermost thoughts and feelings, especially about his sons and their developing relationship.

Dean found out Dad had known much more about Protectors than he would have given him credit for. John had had a perfect idea about Sam’s love, maybe better than either of the boys did. For them, it was the purest thing holding them together. According to John, it was something forced and unnatural, not a true love at all. He had been convinced that cutting Sam off would have been a big favor for the boy. He would have been able to see the world clearly past his Warrior who stood in his view. He would have found out that self-respect wasn’t connected to the willingness to risk his life to make Dean happy and comfortable by all means – something what even Dean tried to get into that thick head of his little brother. Sam would have thought more about his own life, about what he wanted from it, what he wanted to achieve. With such a brain, he could be anything. Without the burden of being what he was, he could go out into the world freely without being afraid to be killed the moment he stuck his nose out of the house. He wouldn’t have suffered like hell when he was “Deanless”. His life would have been much easier, much fuller, richer, more generous.

What struck Dean pretty hard was that John doubted even his own feelings for Sam. He felt pretty offended. How could an outsider claim that his love was just a natural reaction to the fierceness of Sam’s affection? John hadn’t doubted they loved each other, but he had never admitted the deeper feelings could be true from either of the sides. Dean snorted at that, and gave in to Sam’s sulkiness for a moment. He knew they would have to talk in the end, but Dean wanted to finish reading Dad’s thoughts about them. In many things John had a point and the way he saw them helped Dean to look at them from a new perspective. Once he finished, he could go with the perspective to Sam and talk about it and sort out what they were going to do now.

Because Dad didn’t insist on Dean cutting Sam off for one reason: He thought they were part of a bigger plan where the future of Warriors and Protectors was at stake. Only he thought that the extinction of Protectors could be actually a good thing… He only didn’t agree with the violent way they were dying. Murdered by demons, robbed of their essences, crazy, vicious scumbags or dead victims of the greed of the Yellow-Eyed Demon.

Dad even had a plan: wait until the boys grew up and proved themselves to him and to the world they were strong enough to fight the son of a bitch. And even if it probably meant the last man standing would be most likely Dean with blooded hands and the grief of the biggest loss of all, it would be worth it. Sam was an important part in this game, a tool actually, the task of which was to keep the Warrior alive until Dean defeated the enemy. The only question was how he was supposed to do that…

Maybe he would have found the answer in the journal if anger, not his obviously, hadn’t hit him like a punch in the face. Dean raised his head only a little to see his brother striding toward him with a dark glare. No, Sam wasn’t angry as Dean realized. He was furious. He strode to the couch on which Dean was sitting, wrenched the journal out of his hands and shut it.

“Hey!” Dean sat upright and reached for the journal, but Sam hid it behind his back, glowering even more. “Give it back. I was reading it,” he ordered.

“No,” Sam said firmly. “We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Dean said in the same tone.

Sam glared. “I had enough,” he grunted.

“ _You_ had enough?” Dean asked incredulously and stood up. Sam took a step back. “Of what?”

“Of you reading whatever it is and avoiding me,” Sam spat.

“It’s Dad’s journal and I’m not avoiding you.” Dean made a step in Sam’s direction, reaching behind his back, but Sam blocked him with his body, baring his teeth a little and snarling. “Sam,” Dean warned him.

“No, listen to me,” Sam said, not asking but commanding, which was absolutely new. “Ever since you’ve been back, you don’t even look at me. I thought that maybe I did something wrong, but what could I do wrong in such a short time after you came home and drove away from me again? I offered you help, but you didn’t want it and I respected it, but ignoring me? That went a little too far, don’t you think?”

Sam was really pissed… and unbelievably stupid. Dean frowned, too.

“You think it’s about your irritating habit to offer help when it’s not wanted? Maybe. Partly. But it’s mainly about your inability to care about other people than me.” He could feel his own anger rising.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sam asked, confused.

“About the fact I can’t feel a drop of sorrow about Dad’s death…”

“You fucking idiot!” Sam cried and looked like he was about to pounce on Dean. His dog ears were plastered to his skull and he was growling menacingly.

“Watch your mouth,” Dean said sternly. “And give me back the journal.”

Sam threw the book on the couch angrily; a few photos slipped out. Sam didn’t even glance at them. “Are you suggesting I’m a cold bastard without emotions? That I need you to feel anything? _Are you?_ ” The last words were said in a challenging tone, but Dean knew they were meant as a threat.

“I’m not suggesting anything,” Dean said coldly.

“Dad was a part of _my pack_ , you son of a bitch. He was my father, too. He hurt me, hurt _us_ , and there are things I will never be able to forgive him, but I know he cared about us in his own fucking stupid way. So don’t you _dare_ tell me how I feel or how I don’t!” Sam took a deep breath, but his look told Dean he wasn’t done yet. “Dad’s dead,” he continued, not disappointing his brother, “and nothing I say or do will bring him back, so it’s not important to me anymore. YOU are important, because you are HERE and you are BREAKING DOWN and I CAN do something about THAT, but you fucking moron won’t let me, because you are too proud of your emotions, however painful they are, but I can see you’re not coping…”

“Yeah? And how do you know that?” Dean interrupted him sharply.

Sam scowled. “It’s been THREE DAYS, Dean! Three friggin’ days and you spent them huddled on the couch with the… _journal_ ,” he spat the last word as though it was something disgusting. “You didn’t eat properly. If you got something into your stomach, it was mostly whiskey. You haven’t showered, you fucking _smell_. And you totally ignored me! I need to go for a run, Dean! I NEED it! That’s MY way of coping. THAT’S the emotion you wanted from me and ignored it because you were enjoying your self-pity a way too much!”

“Enjoying? Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean’s voice rose as well.

“Dad’s dead, Dean, cope with it!”

“You fucking little bastard! Get out!”

Sam winced. “What?”

“Are you deaf? Get out before I’ll kick you outta here, and I’m being literal,” Dean threatened and made another – the final – step toward Sam.

Sam glared the darkest he could and growled, but backed slowly.

“Get. OUT!” Dean shouted, and Sam ran for it.

When he stepped into the kitchen, Pamela gave him a quizzical look. “How did it go?”

Sam snarled.

“I see,” she said with a small shrug.

“Can’t you take me out?” Sam tried. “I’m going mad here.”

“No, I told you. Neither of us is taking you anywhere until Dean says so.”

Sam frowned. “He won’t say anything to nothing,” he growled and ran out from the kitchen, almost bumping into Bobby, who just walked in.

“Any luck?” Bobby asked when Sam was out of earshot.

Pamela shook her head.

Bobby sighed. “If this lasts too long, I’m afraid Sam will start chewing the furniture…”

“And that will be the least of our problems,” Pamela responded.

Bobby didn’t say anything and went right for whiskey – finding out that the last bottle was in Dean’s hold. Again.

Sam meanwhile shut himself in the room, pacing in circles like a caged animal. All that fury pumped him with too much energy with no way of spending it. He needed the run, but he couldn’t go alone and no one was taking him. The only thing he could do was bark it all out.

Sam grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head none too gently, tearing it in the process as his claws came out. He was too impatient, too restless, and his jeans almost suffered the same damage as he pushed them down his hips together with the underwear.

When the door of the room opened again, the German Shepherd ran out from there, hurrying out into the yard he couldn’t leave. He ran along the fence to the far end and started barking at everything and nothing, loud and sharp. Once he started, he was unable to stop. His voice traveled through the land, frightening the nearby flock of birds. They soared to the sky, peeping in horror, and the louder they were, the louder and more furiously Sam barked.

“Be quiet, Sam!” Bobby’s voice reached him as the hunter was coming closer.

Sam fell silent for a moment, glancing in Bobby’s direction, and then started again, more passionately.

“Sam, stop it!”

Sam didn’t, totally ignoring Bobby.

“Shut up and go back in the house!”

Sam hesitated, looking at Bobby’s serious , slightly pissed-off expression. “Woof?” he tried again, but Bobby wasn’t having it.    

“Don’t provoke me. Come on.”

Sam lowered his head and walked after Bobby, growling quietly.

In the house no one cared about him again and Sam’s mood shifted from frustration to desperation. There was still too much adrenalin in his veins, and he felt lonely and betrayed. There was nothing to distract him. He tried reading, but even books couldn’t take his mind away from that scary wish to tear something apart.

He managed somehow to last till the evening when he indulged a long lukewarm shower before he crawled in bed, mad at Dean, at Dad, at the whole world, and totally forgot about dinner. He guessed it was probably for the best if he went to sleep.

An hour had passed and he was still fully awake. He heard footsteps on the stairs and then someone entered the shower. Sam could already distinguish the nuances in the sounds of steps of the members of the household and he could recognize Dean’s footsteps anytime. Pleasantly surprised he listened to the silence in the corridor until after a long while he heard the door of the bathroom open again and soft pads on the floor coming closer. Sam shut his eyes tightly and waited.

The door of the room opened and Sam’s brother stepped in. Sam waited, pretending he was asleep, even though he knew Dean wouldn’t fall for it.

Dean didn’t say anything. He neared the bed and climbed in. He smelled of water and soap, fresh and clean, and Sam would have cuddled to him if he hadn’t been so mad. He held his breath in anticipation, lying on his side motionless, his back turned to his brother.

And arm wrapped around his middle and broad chest pressed to his back. Sam gasped as he felt the immediate flow of emotions, as strong as a wild river, breath-taking and overwhelming. Sam whined as grief and pain attacked his soul and settled there with rude confidence as tough they were never supposed to go away.

All that weight on his chest was getting less and less bearable with every second and Sam was hardly able to breathe. He felt like a drowning man and if this was not going to end soon, he knew he would suffocate. He whined again and wanted to escape the iron grip, but he was pulled back uncompromisingly, colliding with much scarier part of his brother’s inner world.

There was darkness. Bloodthirstiness, vengeance, anger, and the wish to take the whole world down to its bloody end.

Sam shivered and tried to escape again, hot tears soaking the pillow under his head. He was jerked back furiously, a leg was draped over him, imprisoning him in the torturing embrace more effectively.

Sam yelped, the rush of emotions even more violent. They were like burning fire in his veins and Sam hoped he would pass out soon because he thought he wouldn’t be able to take it any longer.

It turned out he was.

Sam opened his heart wide to his brother and accepted everything that he was given, realizing he was given everything. Dean let him feel every bit of his soul, every dark hour, every second when he had found a reason to smile, every single moment when he had felt happy or betrayed, every time he had been lonely and needy for Sam; he gave Sam his grief and shame, his pain and anger. Sam accepted all of that as his own, took it willingly despite the fear in his heart. He hadn’t been prepared for so much darkness and bloodlust, but once they were forced into him, he needed to deal with them. Or he could go crazy. Years of silent suffering were thrown at him in just a couple of minutes, and Sam needed to remember all the good in his life to be able to carry them. But he knew he could do it. He was a friggin’ Protector! As long as Dean was comfortable and ready to fight, he could bear anything.

Sam relaxed a bit, realizing the arm and leg weren’t draped around him so tightly anymore and the regular soft sound of breathing told him Dean had fallen asleep. Sam pressed to him firmer, back to chest, realizing the flow of darkness carried a tinge of white peace. Sam smiled, dog’s fangs scratching his lower lip. The sheets were torn in a few places as he had been trying to fight against the strong grip of his brother and dug his claws into the mattress. Dog ears listened to the sounds in the room.

“’Ammy…” Dean muttered in his sleep, and Sam wouldn’t have caught it if not for his sharp hearing.

He forced his tail away; it didn’t feel comfortable having it trapped in his pajama bottoms. He didn’t feel like bothering with the rest of his dog parts. He was exhausted and the darkness was still flowing into his body, but the peace, stronger with every Dean’s exhale, was making it all more bearable.

Sam closed his eyes, ready for nightmares.

His desperate whining woke Dean up in the morning. It took him some time to realize where he was. The whining became more persistent, and Dean hugged his brother, whispering soothing words and love confessions into his dog ear. Sam was still asleep, but there was cold sweat on his forehead and he was shivering with incomprehensible fear.

Dean rubbed Sam’s arm and pressed a small kiss on his temple. “You bastard, Sammy, you wanted this,” he whispered with emotion, his voice soft and gentle. “I took the last bits of your innocence away because you wanted it, and I don’t know if I ever loved you more…” He could say those things. Sam was oblivious to the world and Dean expected him to sleep for a couple of hours more. “But I hurt you. I’m trying so hard to protect you, but I’m failing every time. I’m too weak, Sammy, and I’m afraid I could take you down with me.”

Sam gurgled in disagreement from his sleep and Dean almost laughed. He nuzzled Sam’s cheek.

“I love you and I don’t want to hurt you anymore. Maybe Dad was right. Maybe you are better off without me…”

Dean untangled from his brother, feeling lighter and fresher than he remembered. He dressed quietly and went downstairs for breakfast.

He met Bobby in the kitchen. “Better?”

“Uhm,” Dean muttered and found himself something to eat.  

 


	25. The Life Without Dad

 

A couple of hours later Sam got up. It was a big relief for Dean, mostly because he hadn’t touched Dad’s journal ever since he had gotten up and therefore was bored to death, but also because it meant Sam was doing better than Dean had suspected him. He hadn’t spared him last night and now he was worried it could have been too much for the little bitch.

Truth be told, Sam looked awful. Tired as hell, ready to fall asleep again over his breakfast. Yet, he sought Dean’s touch as though looking for comfort, his knee touching Dean’s under the table, fingers tangling with Dean’s when he didn’t need both hands. Dean made him big breakfast consisting of toast, eggs and ham, making Sam eat everything what was put in front of him.

When Sam cleaned his plate, he leaned to Dean, burying his nose in the crook between Dean’s neck and shoulder. Dean could feel the light tickle of Sam’s breath, and he hugged Sam, stroking his back gently.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

“We should talk,” Sam only said and purred in Dean’s neck.

“Yeah, we should. Is an hour enough for you?”

“Mmmmmhm…”

“Fine. Meet me in the jeep in an hour, then.”

They untangled after that. Sam headed upstairs and Dean went to see what Bobby was doing (nothing interesting) and then retired into the jeep where he waited for his brother, sprawled in the backseat.

It took Sam a tad more than an hour; hair disheveled, T-shirt inside out, but otherwise he didn’t look so bad. (He did, who was Dean kidding?) He climbed into the backseat next to Dean and snuggled to him immediately.

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” Dean asked cautiously.

“You’re better today,” Sam replied simply and closed his eyes.

“Look, Sammy, if you wanna sleep, we can talk later…” Dean started, but Sam silenced him when he pressed his mouth to Dean’s, kissing him softly.

“God, I missed this,” he sighed when he pulled away and licked his lips.

“Sap,” Dean said with emotion and smiled, but then he got serious again. “We wanted to talk.”

“Yeah,” Sam said and settled comfortably in the seat, his fingers playing with a loose thread on Dean’s T-shirt.

“You first.”

“Okay.” Sam was nervous, and maybe the reason why he let his dog ears out was that he thought he looked cute with them and Dean wouldn’t get mad for whatever Sam wanted to talk about. “I…”

“You?” Dean encouraged him, watching as the ears dropped, then stood up again, turned to the sides and back again.

“We should talk about what now…” Sam said, avoiding Dean’s look.

“What now?” Dean didn’t understand.

“It’s only you and me,” Sam said quietly. “We should think about what we’re gonna do now. What we want our future to be and what we want from life.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, watching Sam closely. “You already have something in mind, don’t you? What is it?”

Sam’s ears dropped again. He looked away as though looking for words, but when he looked at Dean, there was determination in his eyes. “I’d love to go to college.”

Dean stared. He had to admit he expected anything, but not this. “Why?” he asked, and maybe it wasn’t the brightest response, but he was surprised. To be honest, he hadn’t thought about the future much. He always looked at it as the time he would spend with Sam, most likely hunting together or simply criss-crossing the country, but this was something new.

“I talked to Bobby. He told me to get a life, you told me I should be more myself… So I thought about what I want… except being with you,” Sam talked slowly, worried that Dean might get mad.

“How do I fit into that plan?” Dean asked.

“Easily,” Sam said, and pulled closer, eagerness seeping from his every pore. “We can rent an apartment or many schools provide housing for couples in committed relationship. It shouldn’t be a problem for us.” He grinned while Dean was still staring in amazement. “I’ll go to school and you can find a job. Or study, too.”

“What about hunting?”

“If there’s something in the area, we’ll go hunting of course.” Sam smiled brightly. “See? It’s not such a problem.”

Dean shook his head, trying to recover from the shock. “Wait, Sammy. I can’t go study. I haven’t even finished high school. Besides our commitment is based on our Warrior/Protector relationship. I doubt that’s enough…”

“You can attend evening school…” Sam didn’t want to give up.

“What? No!”

“Why?” Sam’s eyes were big and round, fixed on Dean and hopeful.

“Because…” Dean didn’t really know what to say. “Just because. I don’t want to, okay? Anyway, Sammy, how do you wanna pay for the college?”

“Student loan?” Sam offered.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’ll have to work your fine ass off after you get out of school to repay it.”

“It’s worth it, isn’t it?”

Dean huffed awkwardly. “Sammyyy…” He sighed.

“Dean,” Sam said softly, shifting closer, his dog ears pointing to different directions. “If you don’t want me to go to college, I won’t. You’re still my priority. But Bobby made me think what else I wanted from life aside from being with you, and this is what I want. I want to study, Dean, for a better future for us.”

“Better future…” Dean doubted there was anything like that. “Sammy, there are things you have just a vague idea about,” he started again in order to talk some sense into that thick head of his brother.

“Like demons?” Sam asked. “I can take down demons. Dean, all those years I’ve been TRAINED for such things. You know I’m not useless. I’ve already killed…”

Dean winced. Like he needed to be reminded… “You’d be vulnerable out there.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Just like I’m vulnerable anywhere else. Even here if demons came.” He reached for his brother’s hand. “Dean, I don’t want to stay here for the rest of my life. I’m useless here. I want to do something meaningful.”

 _And studying is meaningful?_ Dean wanted to ask, but he stayed quiet. Sam was right. He was trained, he wasn’t helpless… only inexperienced. And finally he wanted something for himself. Wasn’t it what everyone wanted from him all along? Wasn’t it what Dad was writing about in his journal?

“I have my needs,” Dean said, keeping his voice low and calm, though he felt like yelling at Sam it was all rubbish and they were supposed to have a different future, not such a snobby one. “You’ll be hardly able to go hunting with me with all the school work and part-time job you’ll have to find in order to pay for your daily expenses.”

“I’ll go when I’ll be able to. It’s not like you can’t take care of yourself. And you could probably try wrestling to tune your needs down, hm?”

Dean blinked. “Wrestling?” He laughed bitterly. “Sammy, I’d be just a burden to you. This whole bond will be burden to you. But…” He took a deep breath, ready to make the offer that he knew would regret. “I can make it easier for you. And you won’t be a demon target anymore.”

Sam stared at him in disbelief, understanding reflecting in his eyes. “You mean cutting me off?” he asked cautiously.

Dean didn’t say anything, didn’t even nod.

Sam’s eyes flashed with anger, his eyes turning brown as his fangs came out. “No! I’ll rather forget anything about going to college! I won’t pay that price.” With that he got out of the jeep and strode right to the house, taking his blazing fury with him.

Dean sighed. So one thing was settled. No cutting off. And as selfish as it may sound, he felt relief.

When Sam disappeared in the house, Dean got out of the jeep as well in order to go look for Bobby. He found him still in the garage, sitting at the table and bending over some car components he was polishing.

“Hey,” he said sheepishly, looking for the right words to start the conversation.

Bobby merely glanced at him. “Sit down and start.”

Dean slid on the seat opposite the hunter, inwardly thankful to Bobby for always knowing what was going on under his roof.

“Did _you_ give Sam the idea about going to college?” he asked, keeping reproach out of his voice.

“I just asked him what he wanted to do except guarding your sorry ass. Maybe I nudged him in that direction, but the choice was his,” Bobby said calmly, his attention on work.

“Why?”

Bobby put the component he was polishing on the table and gave Dean a serious look. “Because I think that with his brain it would be a shame if he didn’t try. He won’t be here forever and time for life-changing decisions is now.”

Dean bit his lip, thinking about it. “Let’s say he gets there. How’ll he pay for the study? And don’t say a student loan. He’ll be deep in debt before he finishes school.”

“If he gets to a college,” Bobby started, his voice still low and controlled, “I’m afraid he won’t have any other choice. But if it calms you down a little, when your dad dumped him here…”

“Dad didn’t dump him,” Dean protested.

“Whatever,” Bobby said as though it didn’t interest him. “The point is I opened a college fund for Sam. There should be quite some money by now.”

Dean stared at Bobby in bewilderment. “You did?”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Why are you so surprised? Sam’s always been a bright kid and I figured if your dad had ever started sparing, the money was long spent on ammo and other stuff. Someone had to do it.” He glanced at Dean. “I did the same for you and didn’t stop even when you dropped from school. There should be an equal amount of money.” He returned to his polishing. “The question is what you’re going to do with that information,” he added, and took another component to do the same with it as with the previous one.

Dean didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t expected that anyone would bother to think about their future and wanted it to be brighter and more purposeful than it had seemed to be. It actually gave Sam a good chance to go and try to get to college and find his value and place in the world – except being Dean’s Protector and all that crap that complicated they lives more than it was nice.

“How much have you managed to spare?” he asked.

“Enough to cover one, maybe two years of study.”

“In one fund?”

“In one fund.”

“Wow.” It wasn’t bad at all. When Dean thought about it, if they put the two funds together, Sam could pay for at least half of his study and the debt wouldn’t be so bad. “Good,” he said and stood up. “Will you help me to prepare him for the world outside those barriers?”

“You know I will,” Bobby said in a serious tone.

“Okay. We have work to do, then.” Dean made a decision.

He looked at the dirty car components lying on the table. “Need a hand?”

“There’s a cloth if you want.”

Dean gave the hunter a lopsided grin and got to work.

He didn’t see Sam till evening. Not that he was looking for him, but every time he stepped into the house, he could feel his brother’s fury. It was better to leave Sam alone and talk to him later.

He got the chance when it was time for the evening run. Dean found Sam in the room still sulking.

“Hey,” he said to him a little bit coyly. “You ready for the run?”

Sam stayed quite for a moment. He obviously wanted to snap something along the lines he was not going anywhere with Dean, but then he sighed heavily as though in defeat, “Yeah.”

This time Dean hesitated for a moment. “Sam?”

“Hm?”

“You should try the college.”

“What?” Sam turned to him, bewildered.

“You should apply. If you’re accepted, it’s great and I’ll go with you, unless you tell me you’re fed up with me, and try to figure out what to do with my life. If you are not, it won’t be a big deal,” Dean said, eyes on his brother.

Sam watched him closely, his head tilted to the side as he listened. “You mean it,” he said in the end.

“I do,” Dean exhaled slowly. “You and Bobby are right. With your brain, it’d be a shame if you didn’t try.”

A trace of a smile appeared on Sam’s face, his fury gone. “Won’t I be too vulnerable for the world outside?”

Dean smiled lightly, guiltily. He cast his look down in embarrassment. “Your safety will be always my priority,” he said quietly. “But you can’t waste your life here,” he glanced at Sam from under heavy eyelashes, “and that’s why you have a hard year in front of you.” He smiled for real this time as he raised is head and looked directly at Sam. “You’ll work your ass off, little brother. You’ll be dead with the loads of homework and the hard training. But I’ll see that you are able to take down any monster you can think of by the time you leave here for the college.”

“And you’ll be with me,” Sam stated.

Dean nodded. “I’ll be with you.”

Sam’s broad, radiant smile was the best reward Dean could wish for.

“The run now?” he asked hopefully.

Sam grinned and started undressing, making kind of a show of it. Dean only raised an eyebrow. Sam chuckled and pulled off the last piece of clothing, turning into a dog subsequently. He ran out of the room.

“Wait for me, bitch!” Dean yelled as he ran after him.

A happy bark was the only answer he got.

In the dog’s form, Sam sometimes had difficulty to control himself, or better to say, he didn’t even try for any control over his dog’s behavior. He barked and jumped around Dean, competed with him (and always won), he ran around him in big circles, and all in all enjoyed the run. There was too much energy that needed to be spent, and even when they returned, Sam still seemed to have a surplus of it. As sweaty and naked as he was, he attacked Dean’s mouth in their bedroom, his kisses hot and fierce, desirous.

Dean let Sam to undress him, the clothes almost didn’t make it. It was the skin to skin contact that made Sam slow down a little, his touches became gentler, kisses softer, movements slower. He made love to Dean deliciously that night, and when he knotted him finally, Dean’s world started giving sense again.  

Things started moving from that point. Dean decided it was time to take Sam to a real action, let the boy taste what it meant to be a hunter… and a Protector of a Warrior who needed a fight to stay sane. They packed their things the very next day, dumped the duffels bags into the trunk of the Impala, got in the car and left the salvage yard for an unknown time period. Bobby went with them – as a helper and guardian. If something was supposed to happen to Sam, two people could protect him better than just one.

Their first hunt concerned a werewolf. Sam sniffed it out, claiming it smelled like a Dumpster, and the three of them started the action. The team work between the boys was rather clumsy, but not ineffective, which was the most important part. As Bobby said later, they only needed more time and experience to be able of perfect cooperation. Dean knew that any mistake could cost them their lives, but he said nothing. Sam was still shaking with excitement overload and there was so much hope in his eyes that Dean couldn’t bring himself to criticize any of his moves. He had done mistakes that night himself. Thank God for Bobby…

As for Bobby, he saw the potential. Now the boys were clumsy, but once they got familiar with each other’s fighting skills and understood how to use them to each other’s advantage without being in one another’s way, they could be great, feared hunters hard to defeat. They also needed to work on their mental communication. Many times they screwed because of the lack of understanding. They were just minor mistakes and with more experience they could be easily eliminated.

When they checked in a motel, Bobby considered to take one room with the boys. Queen-sized beds provided enough space for two people to sleep comfortably (and even if they didn’t, Bobby was sure the boys would squeeze in one bed anyway), so a room with twin beds seemed like a good idea to spare some money. He didn’t even know why he decided to take a separate room in the end. Maybe the Goddess of Wisdom whispered into his ear that if he shared the room with the boys, he would have been disturbing something private and intimate. Which turned out to be true as he could judge from the noises coming from the next room…

Bobby was right. With more hunts the boys got better in cooperation and team work. Their actions were accurately calculated and in a perfect harmony. They even managed to develop their mental communication to the level when a single look was enough for them to know what the other one meant. Usually, Sam found a critter and fought it, protecting Dean from the blows, and Dean killed it. Sam preferred to go to an action in his dog form, but when the situation called for it, he had no problem to turn into a human. In times like these, he was comfortable with his nakedness. There was no time for embarrassment when the job needed to be done. Sam also learned to figure out what they were standing against before they even got clues together. He could distinguish characteristic smells of various critters and if they were against a ghost or a vengeful spirit, he simply felt it in his bones.

And then he found something strange. Sam was sure it was a demon, the smell of sulfur was suffocating, and when they managed to trap the bitch in a Devil’s Trap, there was something awkwardly familiar about her, he only couldn’t figure out what.

The demon laughed in their faces, eyes flashing black, and when she stepped out of the trap without any difficulty, Sam’s eyes widened with recognition. It wasn’t her ugly face or confident moves. It was the stolen essence of a Protector that gave her the power.

Bobby and Dean understood what they were up against the moment the demon stepped over the binding line of the trap. Exorcism was useless here since the essence held the twisted soul in the body like a glue and neither rock salt nor iron had the power to slow down the critter. The demon waved her hand and the two of them ended up pinned against a wall.

To everyone’s surprise, the stolen power didn’t work on Sam. When he realized that, he pounced on the demon, going right for her throat with his sharp dog teeth.

The demon’s superstrength earned Sam a broken rib, but thanks to the adrenalin circulating in his veins he didn’t feel the pain. He fought relentlessly until he got the demon on her back and dug his teeth in her throat. She wheezed and tried to tear off the ferocious dog from her. Sam tightened his grip, turning into his semi-human form, and sunk his hand into her chest like a knife into butter. When he pulled it out, he held something glowing with many thin strands pooling from it. It reminded Dean of a weird, shining jellyfish, but he knew it was the essence of a Protector. Sam took it away from the demon.

Having the essence in his grasp, Sam jerked his head, his fangs still buried in the demon’s neck, and he tore it apart. Blood gushed from the huge wound and there was a big, dark pool under the dead body in no time. Glassy eyes were staring lifelessly at the starless sky – the demon was dead.

Sam spit out the torn flesh from his mouth and wiped the blood from his chin hastily before he looked at the mass in his hand. It stopped glowing and melted into ash and then nothing.

Sam sighed heavily as he sank his bloodied hand along his body and looked at his brother and surrogate father, who were pinned to the wall no more. His eyes found Dean’s, finding admiration in them.

Dean ran to him and flung his hands around Sam, hugging him tightly.

“You did it. You killed the bitch,” he said proudly as he didn’t stop pressing Sam to him, not caring that Sam was naked and covered in blood. “You were amazing!”

“Ow,” Sam whined as his broken rib protested painfully against the strong squeeze.

Dean loosened his grip on him immediately. He put his hands on Sam’s shoulders and pulled him away a little to have a good look at him. “What’s up? Are you hurt.”

Sam grimaced. “It’s just my rib. I’ll be okay in no time.”

“Fuck.” Dean glared at the corpse on the ground.

“I hate to interrupt,” Bobby said impatiently as he collected their guns, “but I’d say let’s get out of here.”

Dean and Sam couldn’t agree more with him. Sam turned into his dog form again and padded after the two hunters.

Back in the motel room Dean helped Sam to wash the blood away from his hands and face, then made him swallow some painkillers and got to bandaging his chest. There was already a dark bruise decorating Sam’s side so Dean had at least an idea where his brother was hurt. Thank God Sam healed much faster than normal humans.

“Rest,” he told Sam when he finished.

Sam climbed in bed without a word, hiding his nakedness under the covers. Something with his emotions was off; Dean could feel more regret and sadness than joy of vanquishing the evil.

“What’s up?” he asked, sitting on the bed next to Sam.

Sam looked at him. There was a strange light in his bright eyes. “The Protector’s dead,” he said quietly.

Dean frowned a little. “What Protector?”

“The one whose essence I ripped out from the bitch.”

“How do you know that?” Dean asked cautiously, although he believed Sam was right.

“The essence disintegrated. I don’t think it would have if its rightful owner was still alive.”  

Dean gave a sigh of relief. He had been afraid that Sam was unhappy because of the other death he had inflicted. But Sam only regretted the death of someone of his kind. The sole thought of any harm done to a Protector left a sour aftertaste in the flow of his emotions.

Dean took off his own clothes and slipped under the covers to his brother. Sam looked at him adoringly. Dean cupped his face and kissed him gently but with obvious purpose. Sam mewled quietly into the kiss, his body pressed to Dean’s in a firm line.

“I won’t allow anyone to hurt you _ever_ ,” Dean whispered the promise after he broke the kiss, his thumb stroking lightly under Sam’s eye. “I’m proud of you.”

Sam smiled coyly, reaching for Dean and hooking his one leg with Dean’s, bringing their crotches together. Dean’s mouth locked with Sam’s again, this time the kiss much more sensual than the first one. He rolled Sam flat on his back while he climbed on top of him, humping Sam’s hip in deliberately slow motions.

Sam moaned, reciprocating Dean’s kisses with passion and want Dean couldn’t resist even if he wanted.

He made love to Sam that night with less desperation in his moves but the more in his emotions. He was careful so that Sam’s rib didn’t give him hard time, but it was hard when all he wanted to do was pound into Sam, making sure he was not an illusion but a living, writhing, moaning beautiful magical being. He was jacking Sam off while sliding in and out and then gripping the swollen knot, titillating it with slight pulls just like Sam liked it.

Sam was a moaning mess under him soon and when he came, he pulled Dean with him into bliss. Their climax was accompanied by an amazing loud scream of pleasure.

Dean didn’t pull out immediately. He kept kissing Sam for some time until his softening cock warned him it was time. Sam flinched at the loss and cuddled to Dean immediately as though looking for protection under his arm. Dean hugged him, pressing a kiss on the crown of Sam’s head. Sam sighed contentedly and passed into oblivion.

Dean got up early next morning. Sam woke up when his brother was leaving the bed, mewling in disagreement, but Dean didn’t return to bed. He kissed Sam on the cheek gently and promised him breakfast. He took a long, hot shower helping him to wash some tension off his shoulders and then left to fetch the breakfast. He locked the room – just a precaution to keep anyone who would want to get to Sam outside. He didn’t expect an assault, but one never knew.

He brought breakfast even for Bobby – which seemed like a good excuse to visit the hunter. Bobby had been long awake when Dean arrived, studying a map. He folded it when Dean stepped in.

“Is something up?” Dean asked, glancing at the map.

“Nah, just checking some things. Nothing important,” Bobby said, taking the offered coffee. “How’s Sam?”

“Good. Still sleeping. I’ll need to check his injury when he gets up.”

“I bet he was exhausted after the concert last night,” Bobby said sarcastically, sipping from the coffee.

Dean occupied a chair by a small table. “Sorry,” he apologized, but in fact he wasn’t sorry at all.

“What do you think about what happened?” Bobby asked suddenly, and Dean knew he didn’t mean the noise he and Sam had made.  

Dean shrugged, drinking his own coffee. “I don’t know. I thought you couldn’t kill a demon.”

“You can’t,” Bobby said. “I was trying to figure out what it meant if Sam is able to kill any demon or just those who carry a stolen essence. You can’t kill the friggin’ sons of bitches; the essence make them immune to both salt and iron and the Devil’s Trap doesn’t hold them. You can’t even exorcise them…”

“You don’t need to tell me. I know,” Dean said, frustrated about the facts.

“But if Sam’s their natural enemy…”

“He’s the strongest weapon in our arsenal,” Dean finished Bobby’s sentence with a trace of displeasure.

“Dean…” Bobby sat down opposite him.

“I know,” Dean interrupted him. “We should use whatever we can. Sam’s our best shot.”

“That’s not what I wanted to say.”

“Then what?” Dean fixed his big green eyes at the hunter.

“With that knowledge comes a price. Sam’s more vulnerable than before. I know you need a fight, but try to think if it’s not better for the two of you to stop hunting. Go and live your apple pie life. With Sam in college you’ll have the chance.”

Dean smiled sadly. “It sounds so easy.”

“I’ve never said it’ll be easy. You’re not normal, neither of you. But you want to keep Sam as far from danger as possible, don’t you?”

Dean nodded, wordless.

“The kid wants normal, give him normal. Or as much normal as possible. You are young, you can do whatever you want and let us old men deal with the critters from shadows. If you cross the path of some by chance, you know how to gank it, but you don’t need to look for it…” Bobby continued.

Dean listened to him intently. He wanted to give Sam all of that. Sam deserved normal and safe and Dean was going to look out for his brother to keep him out of any possible danger.

“Finish school, get a job, go to Disneyland, get married…”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Married?”

Bobby shrugged at that. “I just said the first thing that crossed my mind.”

“Naturally,” Dean grinned. “You studied the map,” he changed the topic. “Where are we going from here?”

“I think you owe the Harvelles a visit,” Bobby said matter-of-factly.

“Ah, right.”

Dean raised the Styrofoam cup to his lips and drank his coffee.  

The Harvelle’s Roadhouse was as full or as empty as usual. To avoid the unwanted attention the Winchester boys and Bobby came from the back so that they didn’t need to go through the whole bar. Ellen was careful around the boys as though she didn’t know how to act when the loss of their father was still too fresh, but Dean didn’t let her feel that things had changed so drastically for him and Sam, and Sam didn’t care what others thought as usual, so Ellen finally relaxed and talked to them as if nothing had happened.

It was good to be there again; it reminded Dean of the summer two years ago when he and Sam had spent most of the short time they had for each other in bed. So many things had changed since then. Except one thing: Jo was still making doe eyes on Dean which annoyed Sam pretty much. But this time the younger brother didn’t act like a jealous boyfriend, giving hard time both Dean and Jo, but always tried to turn the girl’s attention elsewhere. Usually he called her out to practice fighting, so in the end that part of the original plan for the summer was covered.

It was amusing watching the two sparring kids, trying to show Dean who of them was a better fighter. At the beginning Sam tried to hold back, he didn’t want to hurt the younger and more delicate girl, but Jo taught him pretty soon that she was a true Amazon princess when she wanted and kicked his ass twice until Sam understood he shouldn’t underestimate her. Dean couldn’t stop sniggering as he watched them, and the sole fact the kids were actually fighting for him filled him with certain smugness.

What amused him immensely was how Sam was annoyed when Dean paid too much attention to Jo and was especially nice to her, however he was always doing his best to hide it. Dean loved to tease him, using Sam’s disability to feel his feelings without the physical contact, and pretended he didn’t get why Sam always came to keep them company when Dean talked to Jo. And the more Sam’s annoyance filled the space around them, the nicer Dean was to the girl until Sam reached his limits. Dean always knew when the moment came and before Sam could snap, Dean pacified him with a touch, through which Sam could feel the intensity of Dean’s love, with a look that lasted longer than by anyone else or a peck on the temple or hand.

Sam knew Dean was playing with him, but he couldn’t get angry, and no matter how much Dean used to tease him during the day, in the end it was always Sam who he came to in the evening, kissed and blew in their shared bed and made love with.

They stayed at the Harvelles almost till the end of Sam’s summer break. One day Dean noticed an old man watching him and Sam. The boys were sitting at the bar, talking to Ellen. She just showed them a file Ash had put together about possible appearances of demons with stolen essences of Protectors. Dean didn’t like the man’s look and if the man was a threat, he needed to know. He sent Sam to look for Bobby and then Jo to get him away from the close scrutiny.

“I noticed him, too,” Sam said quietly, but slid from his stool and disappeared in the back area of the Roadhouse.

“Who is it?” Dean asked Ellen.

“It’s Elkins, hunter. He’s just a Fighter.”

“Can he see…?” Dean asked cautiously.

Ellen understood what he meant immediately. “Well, boy, I definitely can and the old man has a better trained eye than I.”

“Dammit,” Dean cursed under his breath. “Why didn’t you say sooner?” People in the bar usually didn’t care about him and Sam. They were mostly Fighters or Protectorless Warriors who didn’t even have a clue what was special about them. But this guy seemed to know a lot.

“He’s not a threat, Dean,” Ellen said in a hushed voice. “He may know things, but he always minds his own business. If he’s interested in you, it’s not because of what you are.”

“Huh,” Dean huffed, unimpressed. “Then I should find out WHY he’s interested at all.” He left his stool and came up to the hunter in a steady, self-confident stride, back straight, head high, so that he gave an impression of a dangerous opponent.

Elkins did only as much as glance at Dean as he drank from his beer and offered him the seat opposite. The gesture confused Dean a little, but he was determined to find out what the old man was up to.

“I noticed you were watching me and my brother…”

“He’s more than your brother,” the hunter stated matter-of-factly in his gruff voice.

Dean coughed. “Well…” He sat down.

This time Elkins paid him full attention, but said nothing.

“Why are you watching us?” Dean asked with hostility.

“Because you’re fascinating,” the hunter said and gave Dean a toothy smile.

Dean frowned, and when he spoke again, his voice was dangerously low and husky. “If you as much as touch…”

Elkins waved his hand dismissively. “I know your father, young Winchester,” he cut Dean midsentence.

Dean stared, then glared even more. “Our father’s dead.”

Elkins stopped grinning, looking sincerely surprised. “Dead?”

“Yup,” Dean said indifferently. He wasn’t going to let the old creeper even see the glimpse of how broken Dean felt because of that, how fragile and vulnerable and self-conscious. How afraid he was that at some point he would fail to be who his little brother needed him to be.

The old hunter stood up abruptly and threw a note on the table.

“Hey!” Dean stood up as well.

“I gotta go,” Elkins muttered and disappeared from the Roadhouse as though a demon was at his heels, leaving Dean confused and staring at his back as he was hurrying out.

“What happened?” Ellen asked when Dean returned to the bar.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged and walked past her into the back part of the house. He wanted to see Sam.

He found him outside sitting on a bench and talking to Jo. The two of them looked more like they were conspiring, chuckling together as they talked in hushed voices. Dean wondered when they had become such good friends. Not that he minded, of course not, but it surprised him to see them this comfortable around each other without the usual whiff of rivalry.

Sam noticed him sooner than Jo, feeling Dean’s presence at once, and he smiled brightly. Dean couldn’t resist that smile, warming him from the inside, and smiled back.

“Jo, would you mind if I borrow Sam for a while?”

She glanced at both of them, and there it was, that flash in her eyes that told Dean she and Sam were rivals again. He regretted that for a moment, but he couldn’t deny he liked being the object of a girl’s fantasies, even though his heart was elsewhere.

“Sorry,” Sam mouthed in Jo’s direction and hurried after Dean.

As they stepped into the house, Dean twined his fingers with Sam’s. Their eyes met.

“Oh…” Sam only said, but his flushed face told Dean he understood everything. His lips parted a little and his breathing quickened as he gazed at Dean.

Dean smiled and squeezed Sam’s hand, watching the reflection of his own emotions in his eyes.

“Are you all right?” Sam asked in a concerned voice.

“Wasn’t entirely, but you made it better,” Dean said and pulled Sam into their room, kicking the door shut, before he pressed him to the wall and kissed hungrily. Sam reciprocated with the same eagerness, hands reaching for Dean and slipping under his T-shirt. Dean moaned into the kiss as he felt big, hot palms pressed to his skin.

Sam shifted closer and Dean could feel their crotches collide. He sighed and that gave Sam the chance to take control over the kiss. Sam's tongue rolled into Dean's mouth, getting deeper... deeper... as though Sam wanted to taste Dean's very soul. His hands came out from under Dean's T-shirt and cupped his face, not giving Dean any chance to escape the mouth kissing him so greedily. Hmpf... As if Dean wanted that... He wished nothing less than having Sam exactly like this, desperate to possess his big brother, to take everything Dean was willing to give him. Dean felt a little ashamed for that, he loved when Sam was this needy, he _needed_ him like this, needed to be reminded over and over again how much he meant to his little brother. Sam's intoxicating emotions poured into his system, leaving Dean dizzy, but happy.

Sam's hands left Dean's face, changing their destination again, kneading Dean's ass gently. Sam directed the two of them toward the bed. Dean went willingly, their mouths still locked together. His plan had been to make love to Sam, to take him every way Sam was willing to give himself to Dean, but he liked how Sam took control, how he pushed Dean to the bed in a way that refused any objection.

Holly shit, Dean liked it! Loved to be controlled and taken care of, loved that he could stop worrying and just give Sam the upper hand, trust him completely. The certainty that Sam was never going to betray him, that he was the only being that lived for him and breathed for him, even _killed_ for him, was heady enough.

Sam changed a lot in the past year. He was already taller than Dean and almost as strong as his big brother (no way in hell Dean was EVER going to admit Sam might be stronger, no matter if it was true or not). His shoulders were broader, but still a kid's, his arms and legs endlessly long and muscles hardened with the everyday training. He was lean, his hips slender, and Dean doubted there was something going to change about that. The shaggy hair stuck to every direction and Dean wondered whether a different haircut would have been a solution.

Sam’s mouth moved from Dean’s lips to his neck, licking the sweaty skin, following the path toward Dean’s ear, which he nibbled gently. Dean sighed and pressed his nose to Sam’s shoulder, taking a deep breath of the manly odor. He knew that it wouldn't take long and his lover would turn from a boy into a gorgeous young man. Dean couldn't wait that moment. Sam was the most amazing being he had ever seen.

Sam kissed his jaw for change. Dean moaned and gave in to his little brother, yearning for his knot, for becoming one with him and never part...

Sam whined, lust and longing filling the room, turning the air heavy and hard to breath. Dean climbed on the bed, Sam following, and he lay down into the sheets, pliant and submissive. Sam sank on top of him, desire seeping from his every pore, he was trembling with the torturing want, unable to stop the slight rocking of his hips.

"I love you so much," Sam whispered against Dean's skin as he was kissing his neck gently.

Dean only smiled and ran his hand through Sam's hair, letting him feel the intensity of his own love for his little brother.

"I want you," Sam whined brokenly.

"Then take me," Dean said huskily, bucking his hips upward into Sam's.

Sam gave a whine that ended like a growl and bit Dean's shoulder, leaving an imprint of his teeth there. Dean groaned with pain, knowing there would be a bruise later, a mark of who he belonged to. He grinned, satisfied, and let Sam take absolute control over the things.

Sam slipped his hands into Dean's, tangling their fingers together, and pressing them to the pillow above Dean's head. His hips were still moving in the same slow and steady rhythm, already familiar and lulling Dean into the certainty of absolute safety.

Sam bent down and kissed Dean tenderly. Dean welcomed him in his mouth, tongue teasing, but also making place for Sam's to get as deep as possible. The kiss was sloppy, too much saliva and too little technique, but it wasn't about lust or sensuality, but about closeness and need to be together, to be just THEM.

Sam whined quietly as Dean stroked his back, but didn't try to get under Sam's clothes as he would have done normally, and most importantly didn't try to take them off. Sam lifted his head and eyed Dean suspiciously. His Protector's brain seemed to be unable to grasp that he was given a gift of tasting the complete power over someone who normally had all the power over him, who determined his every step, and now he was the leader and Dean the follower... Sam looked perplexed with that revelation as though he didn't know what to do with it, so Dean wriggled his hips, frustrated, sending Sam the mental plea to finally DO something. Anything.

Sam's eyes narrowed with suspicion, and he lowered his head to Dean's neck, licking the skin, and only when Dean gave a content sigh, he sucked and bit, leaving red marks all over Dean's neck. Dean smiled stealthily as he could feel Sam's secret desire, finally revealed, getting stronger with every mark he left, each of them deeper, more conspicuous and more permanent.

Sam's wish was to mark Dean's whole body, leave bruises after his love bites... and sticky saliva as he licked and more, much more... but it had to wait now. He wanted to worship Dean's body and to possess him completely just like Dean always wanted to do to him and always did, but this time Sam was allowed to do it and not feel bad for his dream to make Dean his, to claim not only his body, but especially his soul. Dean trusted him unconditionally - just like Sam always trusted Dean, and not because it was in his DNA, but because he _knew_ there was no way Dean was ever going to deceive him – now he was given the chance to have a proper look at the mirror image of his own trust and the depth of his feelings in Dean.

Understanding all of that, Sam almost lost it before he had even started...

He whined and reached for Dean’s clothes impatiently, almost tearing Dean’s T-shirt with his dog claws in the process. Dean chuckled and helped him to get the annoying piece of clothing off. Sam’s mouth was immediately on Dean’s chest, long fangs scraping the soft skin gently, tongue teasing beautiful sighs from Dean’s throat. Sam placed a kiss on Dean’s sternum before he moved to the left nipple and sucked; Dean moaned loudly, his hands coming up to bury in Sam’s hair, touching his pointed dog ears lightly. Sam knew Dean loved his ears, the feeling of the soft hair covering them, and he let him play with them while he paid enough attention to both Dean’s nipples.

Slowly, Sam moved to Dean’s belly, peppering it with tender kisses. Then he dipped his tongue into the belly button, swirling it and enjoying the small, involuntary twitches of Dean’s body. He smiled and kissed a path down the happy trail toward the waistband of Dean’s jeans, undoing them quickly and pulling them lower together with the underwear to continue in his mission. Dean sighed again, his breathing fast, and when Sam rose on his knees in order to get his brother rid of the rest of his clothes and their eyes met for a moment, there was fire of want and lust in Dean’s.

Sam smirked, getting Dean finally naked, and, impatient himself, he dived for Dean’s cock, sheathing it with his mouth. Dean groaned and shivered, making Sam grin smugly. He sucked lightly, forcing another beautiful moan from his brother, and then licked from the base right to the top, where he placed a loving kiss. Dean exhaled sharply, closing his eyes.

Sam smiled and pulled away, but before Dean could express his disagreement, he caressed the inner sides of his thighs. Dean reacted exactly the way Sam wanted him to: he bent his legs in knees and spread them so that Sam could settle between them.

Sam grinned, satisfied, rewarding Dean with soft kisses on the inner side of his both knees, but then he let go and started undressing himself. Dean squinted at him as Sam took off his T-shirt and threw it on the floor beside the bed carelessly.

Now Dean was watching him closely, and Sam felt proud and happy that he still could ignite the spark of complete lust and adoration in his brother. When Sam touched him, he could feel how much Dean wanted him, needed him… loved him… In times like this Sam thought his heart would burst with all that love, but his heart proved to be strong enough to hold together, even stronger with the knowledge its feelings were requited.

He ran his hand up Dean’s belly toward his chest and kissed his brother gently. Dean returned the kiss eagerly, wanting to deepen it, but Sam didn’t allow that and pulled away, grinning when Dean pouted. He bent over the edge of the bed and pulled his duffel from under it. He rummaged through its content for a while until he pulled out a bottle of lube.

They didn’t go anywhere without lube these days. Sam thought that they should probably feel ashamed for acting like rabbits, but who could blame them? It felt like they needed to make up for all those years they had been forced to spend separated. Anyway, as for the two of them, sex wasn’t just an act of satisfying body needs, but it was an important way of communication. Through sex, they could express what they weren’t able to put into words. It was about closeness and trust, about their bond and their will and determination to stand against anyone or anything who would try to prove they were wrong.

They weren’t. Sam could feel it in his bones.

He settled back between Dean’s wide spread legs and willed his claws away. He opened the bottle, pouring some of the lube on his fingers. He waited for the liquid to warm up a little and he reached between the cheeks of Dean’s ass, stroking lightly over his entrance. Dean’s breathing quickened and a shiver ran up through his body.

Sam pushed one finger inside, then another one. They had done this quite often recently and neither of them was too tight anymore, especially Dean who had to take Sam’s thick knot.

The third finger was in, and Dean was wriggling with impatience.

“Shhh,” Sam tried to soothe him, stroking Dean’s knee lightly, but it was only driving his brother crazier and craving Sam’s cock even more. Yet the jerk didn’t say a word, determined to let Sam taste the complete control even if it meant he would be tortured in this sweet way, left balancing on the verge of orgasm until he wouldn’t be able to take it anymore and would fall into the abyss of unfulfilled need. But he was ready to take the risk, trusting Sam he wouldn’t let him die of blue balls so completely that Sam himself felt the urge to give Dean what he wanted, to bring him the relief. Only Sam knew that if he had done that, he would have come himself and the fun would be over until both of them would be able to get their cocks up and ready again. He wasn’t going to risk it.

He got rid of the rest of his clothes, finally freeing both his swollen dick and tail from the constricted room of his jeans. It felt liberating as though the dog was finally unleashed.

“Turn around,” he told Dean, already breathless, the animalistic instincts to mate driving him forward, grabbing Dean himself eagerly, not realizing he scratched him with his claws that were out again.

Dean didn’t say anything, didn’t wince, didn’t protest. He hurried to grant Sam’s wish, as unable to wait for the contact as Sam was.

Getting inside felt always like coming home. They moaned in unison; Dean tilted his head backwards and Sam bent over him and nuzzled his jaw. Their mouths met in a sloppy, messy kiss with too much saliva and long teeth in the way as their tongues met.

They were perfect. Absolutely compatible. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.  

Sam moved and Dean gasped, they both were already on the brink of bliss... But it was too soon and therefore so not fair. Sam wanted to last longer, as long as it was possible, but his seventeen-year-old body was protesting and urging him into harder shoves, firmer grips and bites that left deep marks on smooth, white skin.

Orgasm hit him with a devastating force. Sam whimpered, clutching Dean’s hips, his claws digging in his flesh as he was holding tight. Dean didn’t protest, didn’t try to escape the pain Sam was causing him, though his breathing was fast and his body tense.

Sam bent over him and bit Dean’s shoulder, careful that he didn’t break the skin as the last wave of his climax swept through him. Dean barely sighed, turning his head in search for Sam’s mouth.

Their tongues met just briefly, but it meant a lot – trust, devotion, care… Sam kissed Dean’s shoulder. “Love you,” he whispered against the bruised skin and sat back on his heels, pulling Dean into his lap. His knot was big and tight inside of his brother, holding them together securely.

Dean groaned, leaning back against Sam’s chest. Sam folded his arms around him, caressing Dean gently, paying extra attention to his nipples while he kept peppering his back with tiny kisses. Meanwhile his one hand slid between Dean’s legs and started stroking him, his skillful fingers running up and down his brother’s length.  

Dean sighed, his breathing ragged. “Sammm… my,” he moaned, and even if Sam hadn’t known what it meant, he would have felt it. It took him only a few more pulls and Dean was coming into his hand, shivering and smelling so beautifully manly. Sam couldn’t stop pressing his nose to Dean’s skin, taking deep breaths, licking off the sweat of his body and nibbling gently his ear as he stroked Dean through his orgasm. Dean's emotions rushed through Sam's system, pushing him to the brink of a new bliss. Sam trembled, his cock pulsing inside of Dean, flooding his insides, marking him. Sam loved those moments when Dean was truly his - inside out and from head to toe.

"Sam," Dean moaned again, and there was need in his voice. Sam kissed his shoulder, pressing Dean close. _I'm here,_ he was saying in their non-verbal way.

Dean sighed, satisfied and spent, absolutely pliant in Sam's arms, letting his little brother take care of him. And Sam was going to. He was going to pamper him, snuggle with him, caress him and kiss him and love him infinitely. Dean purred like a kitten. Sam would have laughed if he hadn't had his mouth pressed to Dean's shoulder. Still, a huge grin spread across his face, imprinting Sam's love and amusement into the skin.

Dean wriggled slightly and Sam got the message. He lifted slowly, pulling Dean with him, bending him over gently. He allowed him to sink into the sheets, going with him as Dean lay down. Sam settled on top of his brother, kissing his shoulder and stroking his arms, his claws hidden for that moment. Dean sighed and rested his head on his hands, closing his eyes. Sam noticed a slight smile curl his lips and he smiled himself, nuzzling Dean's cheek.

Dean needed him. Exactly like this. Loving, caring and deep inside. Sam didn't know what the primary impulse for that sudden need was, but he didn't complain. He loved such moments when Dean belonged to him with everything he was and had, and Sam was falling in love with him more and more with every breath.

Dean grinned, obviously following the course of Sam's feelings, and squinted at his brother from the heavy eyelashes. "Sap."

Sam chuckled softly and bit Dean's ear gently instead of answering.

"Ow," Dean laughed beautifully. "Bitch."

"Jerk."

They grinned, both feeling what the other felt until they couldn't distinguish where one started and the other ended, where the line between them lay. They truly were one entity. Sam buried his nose in the crook between Dean's neck and shoulder and purred quietly, contentedly. His consciousness was wrapped in a soft blanket woven of love, and he slipped into that sweet state between wakefulness and oblivion. He could feel his release still marking Dean from the inside. He grinned like an idiot in the sweaty skin and breathed his brother's beautiful manly odor.

They stayed like that until Sam's knot shriveled back into its normal size and he could pull out of Dean. He rolled on the dry side of the bed while Dean stayed where he was for a little longer while he was soaking with Sam's come, but then he cuddled up to his brother, not caring about the wetness between his thighs anymore.

They enjoyed the silent comfort of each other's presence, sharing kisses here and there. Sam felt the dog joy of being with his god, the impersonation of his universe, and he could feel Dean's amusement, see it in his beautiful green eyes. Sam purred and nuzzled under Dean's chin, his tongue coming out to lick his face. Dean chuckled, pushing Sam away gently, but then pulling him back into his arms. He ran both hands through the little brother's hair and fiddled with his soft ears. Sam mewled, waving his tail, and kissed Dean greedily.

They didn't get up until hunger drove them out of bed in the evening. They ate something and talked to others a little before each of them took a bottle of beer and they went to the backyard and spent a long time watching the summer night sky, talking and drinking, sitting on the hood of the Impala. They talked a lot about Dad, about his poor parenting skills, about his efforts to keep them apart, believing he had been protecting them, and how he had been giving in to their stubbornness in the end. They wondered how their life would have looked like if John had been still there, what choices they would have made. Sam was sure he wouldn't have tried to get to college and ended up somewhere on a road with Dean in an attempt to get as far away from John as possible. Dean didn't voice his opinion, but he thought, too, that he and Sam would have brought their old 'deal' to realization. They both admitted in the end they loved their old man and missed him.

"His death wasn't your fault, Dean," Sam said suddenly in a soft tone.

Dean didn't say anything, looking away from his brother. He drank from his beer. He felt Sam's piercing look on him.

"You couldn't have known what would happen," Sam continued. "You did what you thought was right. What you _felt_ was right."

Dean sniggered bitterly. "I knew you'd say that."

Sam pulled away and his glare went right to Dean's heart. "Don't you _dare_ lessen the importance..."

"I don't," Dean interrupted Sam sharply. "It was the most important moment in my life. I was determined to never leave you again and I paid for it."

"No," Sam protested. "It was Dad's decision to go. You didn't tell him to pack his crap and get lost."

"You don't get it, Sam."

"Don't I?" Sam challenged, tangling his fingers with Dean's. He was pissed. Not at Dean. He was pissed at Dad for not having understood, for having gone off and not having come back, for having gotten himself killed. It was all his fault. Not Dean's. Not Sam's.

Dean was staring into Sam's sincere eyes, channeling the storm that was raging inside of his brother. He couldn't bare that anymore. He wrenched his hand out of Sam's grip, almost dropping the bottle he was holding in his other hand, and pulled away.

Sam waited a couple of heartbeats and then shifted closer, letting their knees touch. "Dean."

"I don't wanna talk about it," Dean said, but didn't pull away this time.

"Okay." Sam's immediate acceptance surprised the older brother, but it also brought relief.

"Drink your beer," Dean said, giving a way to a little smile that curled his lips.

Sam put the bottle to his mouth and took a swig, then he smiled as well and snuggled to Dean.

"Sap."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

The last days of the summer the boys spent hiking with Bobby. Ellen approved of Jo joining them, but she stayed in the Roadhouse herself. They were the last days of fun the boys were supposed to enjoy before the new school year started and Sam needed to prepare for taking the SAT tests again to improve his score (Dean didn’t get why it was needed).

Most of the time Sam spent in his dog form. He hadn't turned for a long time, and Dean could feel his joy of finally letting his animal self out completely. So in the end the original plan for Sam to train his fighting skills with Jo went to ice. Instead, Sam liked showing off his tracking abilities, using his keen sense of smell. Dean let him; this trip was supposed to help them overcome the grief of their loss in the first place and if this was what made Sammy happy, Dean was in.

The days were filled with game and laughter; they loved chasing each other or playing hide-and-seek together with Jo. She was and equal member of their little party and they liked teasing her in a gentle way. Bobby kept a careful eye on them, watching out for their safety especially Jo's. In their two tents they were supposed to sleep Jo and Sam in one while Dean and Bobby in the other, but the three young people ended up in one tent, Sam in his dog form sleeping curled up between Dean and Jo, pressed to his brother, who sought Sam's furry warmth in his sleep.

Dean was reluctant to admit it, but this carefree couple of days brought him so much needed peace of mind. He felt still hell guilty for John's death, but he was willing to accept the fact being in the same situation, he would have chosen his brother, his Protector, again. Sam's well-being and happiness was the most important thing.

 


	26. The Normal, Apple Pie Life

 

They returned back to Sioux Falls only shortly before the start of the new school year. The boys spent those last few days lazing around, helping Bobby in the garage and making out in their room or the old jeep. The last night before Sam went to school they made love as though they knew there wouldn't be much time for such activities anymore. They did it slowly, deliciously, and still could feel the sweet aftertaste of the act next morning.

They started the day with the usual morning run. After breakfast Dean took Sam to school and once he was in the town, he looked for a job. He was aware that money were going to be an issue for them later and he wanted to be ready. He found a job as a bartender in one of the local bars. The job was quite fine, especially because he could keep the tip. The clientele wasn't so bad, either; mostly town guys who thought they were tough, but weren't much of heroes in true fights. They were easy to handle.

Dean tried to synchronize his shifts with Sam's daily routine. The kid spent evenings boning up, so he wasn't much fun. Sometimes Samantha came over, so Dean figured he wouldn't be missed during such days. But not always was it so easy. Dean worked mostly evenings and rather often during weekends.

If Dean wanted to be absolutely honest, he and Sam didn't have much time for each other and the frustration and suspense was slowly building up. It didn’t help when Sam did his test at the beginning of December. He was nervous about his results, tired but still not allowing himself to relax so that it didn’t affect his midyear report. He was working hard for his dream to come true and, in Dean’s opinion, he took the whole thing too seriously.

Everything escalated when Sam got his test results the day before Christmas. He did much better than the last year, which was nothing unexpected according to Dean. The tension and frustration was supposed to subside from that point, but instead of that a fight erupted between the boys. Dean had agreed to take the morning shift on Christmas Eve, having been promised a bonus payment for it. Sam was against the idea since it was the first day after a long time they could finally spend together just hanging around and also his vision of a pack that was finally together and enjoying themselves was suddenly violated.

As expected, Dean was late from work that day. Sam was already in bed when he turned up.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I was delayed. There was this guy..."

"I don't wanna know anything about it," Sam said sharply and turned his back on his brother, however he didn't pull away when Dean crawled to bed and hugged him from behind. He was truly sorry and Sam wanted to stay pissed, but he couldn't. He only felt helpless. He knew how it felt to be without Dean, and even though there was no one trying to keep them apart this time, the circumstances weren't generous to them.

"You know why I'm doing this," Dean said softly.

Sam only sighed and pressed tighter to his brother, tangling their fingers together. "You know I love you," he whispered.

Dean nuzzled his cheek and placed a small kiss under Sam's ear.

The next day Dean had the night shift, so they spent a long time in bed in the morning and didn't move from each other's side in general until Dean had to go. He returned late at night and slept till noon the next day while Sam used the time and put together all the things he needed to send with his applications for schools.  

The winter break was soon over and the things went back to being crazy again; Dean was working and Sam checked if all his materials reached the colleges he applied for and started getting together the materials for his request for a student loan. It took him a lot of energy, too, and he regretted they didn't have time to celebrate Dean's twenty second birthday properly. They wanted to make love, but they both were too tired for it and didn't get further than groping each other in bed until they fell asleep. Their sex life had been going downhill since the very beginning of the school year and except a handjob here and there they didn’t get to any action anymore, which irritated them immensely.

During the days when Dean didn't have shifts and Sam was at school, Dean continued reading John's journal. He hadn't touched it ever since Sam voiced his disapproval of Dean's way of grieving, but now, when days were like this, there was nothing better to do. John had written a lot about his encounters with demons using the stolen essences of Protectors. He had also mentioned each life of an essenceless Protector he had had to waste for different reasons. It was a tough, heartbreaking read that helped Dean to understand John's fear better. The poor man had been trying to do his best to protect his children's lives. However, Dean didn't say anything of that to Sam and he worked hard to earn enough money to start their future once Sam got to college (Dean never doubted that his little brother was going to get to one).

One spring day Sam came up with an idea to make a trip to the colleges he chose. Most of all he wanted to see Yale since he and Samantha applied for it together. Dean agreed to take the kids there, but in the end he couldn't go unless he wanted to keep his job in the bar. Dean wouldn't have cared if it hadn't meant loss of money. Bobby offered to take the kids, but Sam didn't want to hear about it, wanting to stay home with Dean until Dean talked some sense into his little brother’s thick head.

"What if I'll get sick?" Sam protested as he crawled to bed next to Dean two days before he was supposed to leave for the trip.

Dean wrapped his arm around him. "That would be impractical."

"Exactly." Sam snuggled closer and dipped his head under Dean's chin.

"Then don't get sick," Dean said simply, running his hand up and down Sam's back.

Sam raised his head. "And how will I do that, smartass?" he asked, irritated.

Dean grinned. "You can look forward to the day when you come back to me." He ran a hand through Sam's hair. "It's only a couple of days. I'll see you soon."

Sam snorted, but then capitulated. "Won't you miss me?"

Dean laughed. "Bitch." He rolled Sam on his back and pinned him to the mattress with his body.

"Is that a yes?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow, as he hooked his leg around Dean's hip and pressed their crotches together.

"Uhmm," Dean purred and started humping Sam's body.

Sam groaned, tilting his head back, exposing his throat to his brother. Dean delivered nice, wet kisses on the delicate skin.

"You'll call. As often as you can. Understood?" Dean ordered and thrust against Sam's hard-on.

Sam whimpered excitedly.

Dean kissed him fondly before he pulled away. "Time to sleep, puppy. I have a double shift tomorrow."

Sam groaned. "You're cruel. I'll die of blue balls."

"No, you won't," Dean smirked. "You'll be a good boy and let me sleep and when you get back from the trip, I'll give you the best blowjob in the past year."

Sam glanced at Dean skeptically. "Promise?"

"Promise," Dean said with a smile, wrapping his arm around Sam's torso.

Sam turned on his side, his back pressed to Dean's chest, and let Dean spoon him.

"Sammy?"

"Hm?"

"Don't jack off. I don't want a pool in the bed."

"Jerk," Sam groaned, offended.

Dean chuckled. "Love you, too." He pressed a kiss behind Sam's ear and went to sleep.

He didn't see much of Sam the next day. When he got home finally, it was already late and Sam welcomed him in bed, yawning and sleepy.

If Sam hadn't woken his brother up next morning, Dean would have totally overslept his departure. Sam kissed him goodbye, promised to call and was reluctant to untangle from Dean's arms until Dean finally got out of bed, grabbed Sam's duffel and pulled Sam out of the room. He led him out to the yard where Bobby was already waiting. Bobby only raised an eyebrow at Dean's T-shirt and boxers, but didn't comment, and Dean refused to feel guilty for not having bothered to pull on some pants. He kissed Sam one more time and pushed him into the passenger’s seat, threw his duffel in the backseat, wished the two a good trip, and asked Sam to say hi to Samantha for him when they picked her up.

Dean didn't think he would miss Sam so soon. The car barely disappeared on the horizon and loneliness settled in Dean's heart like a heavy rock. This was the first time he was staying while Sam was leaving, and it filled him with helplessness. He wished nothing else than get into the Impala and follow Bobby's car. He thought the feeling wouldn't have been so biting if only Pamela was there, but she was following her own errands.

The empty house, empty rooms, only deepened Dean's loneliness. In order to blunt it a little he spent the rest of the day helping in the bar, even though it wasn't his shift. Sam called once; the conversation was short, only a brief recapitulation of their day. Dean lied he was okay and probably Sam did, too.

Returning home in the evening was tough. The house was dark and quite, and suddenly seemed too big. Dean read Dad's journal for a long time until he decided it was time to turn in. He settled in the bed that remembered Sam's warmth, his scent was captured in the sheets and Dean could easily imagine his brother was still there.

Only that he wasn't...

Dean thought of all the cold motel beds he had slept in in the past, beds that never knew how it felt to offer their comfort to such an amazing being as Sam. But this one did, it was literally _breathing_ with Sam's presence, making Dean miss his brother even more. He tried to imagine how Sam must have felt every time Dean had left him. Lonely, broken, sick... This bed remembered almost their whole life; it was the witness of all the changes in their relationship, there was the memory of the time when brothers became lovers, imprinted in the mattress, good times and bad times, the goodnight kisses that had become something more, their first lovemaking, love confessions, revelations, tears and laughter... They became THEM in that bed, and some things were still going to happen there until they moved forward.

Dean took double shifts in the bar to avoid the emptiness both in the house and in his heart. At least this separation wasn't going to last long, but it didn't mean it was any less hard. Sam was supposed to return in two or three days, and Dean wanted to be there. With his working tempo those couple of days he hoped he would be allowed to take a day off when it happened.

He was. The day felt freaking long, and even fixing little damages on the Impala wasn't enough of a distraction to Dean. He couldn't wait to see his little brother again, to hold him in his arms, to kiss him, to fill that hole in his chest with the sweet feeling of being together again. The bed was not going to be half-empty anymore... Sam may have called Dean as often as he could, but it was always for short. Dean had a feeling that even if they could talk from morning to night, it would never be enough.

He knew when Sam set on his journey back. He could say he felt it in his bones. From the moment he realized that little but extremely important fact, nothing could entertain him for long. After he gave up fixing the Impala, he didn't know what else to do. He was bored and restless and annoyed with himself that he was so useless without Sam around. He took a shower to wash away the sweat and dirt from fiddling with his car, then he glared at the clock in Bobby's living room, willing the time to go bye faster (the bitch absolutely didn't care what _he_ wanted and was ticking off in its lazy rhythm), but suddenly he realized Sam would be probably hungry when he returned, and so Dean occupied the kitchen and set to work with much more enthusiasm than he had shown ever since he had been feeling Sam was coming back.

Sam called later; it was a short conversation again, but it improved Dean's mood nevertheless. Feeling lighter in heart and satisfied that he didn't need to get his mind off Sammy, because what he was doing here he was doing for him. In the end he was so engrossed in the activity that he forgot to check the time every five minutes, and when he was finished, he was surprised how much time had already passed.

The result of his efforts were delicious burgers filled with juicy meat. Dean was sure Sam would appreciate them. The feeling of Sam's presence was slowly getting stronger, but Sam was still too far, giving him more time to kill. He found Sam's old collar in the glove compartment of the Impala. It needed some fixing, too. The writing on the label was hard to read, so Dean took his time to polish it. The collar itself was shabby and it was probably better to get Sam a new one. Yet, he tried to fix it the best he could, but the thing didn't look good anymore anyway, so Dean let it be in the end and went to look for another activity that would occupy him enough to not go crazy with boredom.

He found out eventually it wasn't going to happen. Even if he wasn't doing anything, his mind was so firmly set on Sam and the feeling of his presence getting stronger, that Dean really didn't need more for a while. It felt like Sam was almost there, happy and excited, impatient to see his brother again...

Dean sat up on the couch he had been lazing on at the moment and listened to the silence around. He thought that he could catch a very distant purr of an engine.

"What are you doing?" a woman's voice spoke to him.

Dean turned around abruptly to see Pamela standing in the doorway of the living room. He hadn't noticed her come.

"How long are you here?" he asked her with a frown.

"A minute or so."

"I didn't hear you."

She smiled wickedly. "That could be either because you're with someone else in your mind or because I'm good at sneaking on people."

Dean huffed, embarrassed. How could he let that happen? Such a mistake could cost him his life next time.

"Don't beat yourself," Pamela told him with a pat on his shoulder. "A feline here. You wouldn't hear me in a thousand years. Now go to welcome your brother, he's here in a minute."

Dean's heart made a somersault. So it was true. Sam was almost there, back with Dean.

Dean ran out of the house as though a hellhound was at his heels. He could truly see the well-known car in the distance coming closer. Sam was there, in the passenger seat, as eager and impatient as Dean for the car to reach the yard at last so that he could get out and hurl himself into his brother's arms.

A big grin split Dean's face. The world was brighter again, better, safer, and when he locked his arms around his brother, lover and Protector, there was no trace of loneliness anymore. He held Sam in a tight hug, bathing in his radiant presence, absolutely oblivious to the world around. Sam was the only one that mattered right now and unless they celebrated their reunion properly, there was no point in caring about anything else.

"Missed me?" Sam asked and his beautiful, dimpled smile brightened his face.

"Hell yeah," Dean groaned and slotted their mouths together.

Standing in the yard while trying to suck the very soul out of each other wasn’t probably the best idea, so Dean pulled Sam into the house, and even though he wanted to get him into their room as soon as possible, he didn’t want to stop kissing or touching him when he finally could, ending up showing his hands under Sam’s shirt every now and then. Sam was chuckling with amusement, but he was doing the same as eagerly as Dean.

Meanwhile Bobby took out his and Sam’s duffel from the car with absolutely indifferent expression as though he hadn’t just become a witness of the boys’ passionate reunion. On the other hand, Pamela watched it closely with a smirk.

“Aren’t you here sooner than you planned? What brought you back?” Bobby asked her, not really caring about the answer. His only goal was to turn her attention away from the brothers.

“I couldn’t miss this,” she said, looking satisfied and deeply amused.

“When did you change your mind about them?”

Pamela shrugged. “Some time during those years... I still don’t like it, but… You were right, they’re different. Trying to talk some sense into them would be pointless and disserviceable.”

“So disserviceable?” The sarcasm in Bobby’s voice was hard to be overheard.

“Yeah,” Pamela said calmly. “They learn quicker when they’re happy and they’re happy when they’re together. They’re stronger like this.”

Bobby had nothing to say to that.

“Don’t you want to go inside and serve me a drink? You look like you’d appreciate one, too,” Pamela said after a while.

“I’m not entering the house until they get into their room finally. I had plenty of time to get used to the idea of them making out regularly, but I don’t need to see it. The noises and mental images they give me are quite enough. I’m already scarred for life.”

“You poor thing,” Pamela drawled teasingly.

The sound of a door being closed upstairs reached them, so it was safe to get inside and indulge in a glass of Scotch.

The closed door prevented them from hearing the passionate noises from inside the room. Luckily, they weren’t too loud, not right now at least. The boys were still sharing hungry, messy kisses, Dean pushing Sam to the bed step by step. Sam didn’t protest to being manhandled , he went willingly, and when Dean lifted him up and threw on the bed, he only laughed, reaching for his brother again.

“Aren’t you a little horny?” Sam teased, but his own jeans were already tight.

“I promised you a blowjob, didn’t I?” Dean said with a grin as he undid Sam’s pants, pulling them down.

“Hell yes!” Sam grinned back, lifting his hips so that Dean could get him rid of the redundant clothes more easily.

“I love you, Sam.”

Sam closed his eyes and purred. He knew. He could feel Dean’s love rushing through him with every touch of his skillful hand.

God, he had missed this, missed them. It had been hard to leave Dean behind, even harder to fight the urge to run back to him every day. Sam swore he would never go anywhere without Dean again.

When Dean’s mouth finally touched him, Sam sighed contentedly. He was home, finally able to breathe freely, finally where he belonged.

Dean delivered small, soft kisses from the head of Sam’s cock down to his knot. He licked the bulge, then took it between his teeth, playing with it, teasing, making Sam shiver and moan with pleasure and excitement. Sam’s knot was one of his strongest erogenous zones. Dean knew it and used that knowledge to his advantage. Sam’s pleasure poured into his veins and often it was so strong Dean would come without touching himself.

Sam was already leaking with precome, so Dean sheathed him and sucked, his hand tightly wrapped around Sam’s knot, never stopping stimulating it.

It didn’t take Sam long to reach climax; his body bent in a graceful arch and the sweetest of sounds escaped his mouth – the loud moan, almost a cry, sounded to Dean like the most beautiful song. Sam’s orgasm hit him hard and he followed his brother to the bliss, mouth still wrapped around Sam, tasting him, feeling him in every cell…

He released Sam with a pop, gasping for air. Sam was panting, too, his eyes trying to catch Dean’s eye. They grinned – they both were a mess: Sam half naked, still leaking, his knot big and dark with all the blood gathered there, his dog parts out, Dean wet in his pants with droplets of Sam’s come in the corners of his mouth. They must have looked ridiculous, but for them there was no more beautiful picture in the whole world.

Sam reached out and Dean understood; he sank slowly on Sam’s body, bringing their crotches together. Sam sighed quietly and put his hands on Dean’s ass, pushing him down firmly. Dean’s jeans were getting even wetter with all the come Sam’s body was still producing, and the knot was captured tightly between their bodies – exactly the way Sam liked it.

Dean studied Sam’s flushed face for a while. The postorgasmic bliss always made his brother’s features softer, more graceful… glorious. Dean lowered his head to Sam’s face and kissed him affectionately, letting the kiss slide over their lips unhurriedly, at first soft and gentle turning into deep and sensual.

They kept kissing until Sam stopped leaking and his knot shrank to its normal size.

“You good, little brother?” Dean asked with a grin. He licked his lips gently since they were sensitive to the touch from all the kissing. Funnily, it felt good.

Sam’s mouth was puffy and bright red, stretched into a broad, gorgeous smile. “Never better.” He wrapped his arms around Dean and rolled them over, grinning like a fool. “I think I should leave more often if this is what I get when I return.”

Dean grabbed Sam’s dog ear and tugged vigorously. “Don’t you dare,” he warned.

“Ow!” Sam whimpered and grinned again. “You really missed me.”

Dean glared. “Shut up.” He was still holding Sam’s ear, however his grip wasn’t so firm anymore.

Sam chuckled, but didn’t say anything.

“It could be worse,” Dean said, fiddling with Sam’s ear. He loved touching the soft tissue covered with silky hair.

“It could,” Sam agreed. “We could be sick. But we agreed on the separation and we knew it wouldn’t last longer than a few days.”

“Do you think that’s the key?”

“What else? Before, we had always been forced to part. The last two times it was our decision.”

Dean smiled. “You may be right.” He let go of Sam’s ear at last and brushed away the untidy hair from his eyes this time.

“I’m sure I’m right,” Sam said, leaning into the touch when Dean’s hand stopped on his cheek.

“Whatever,” Dean shrugged. “So… How was the trip?”

Sam’s face lit up immediately. “Great! We were shown around the school and then campus. Everything looked so interesting. I don’t even know where to start.”

“So you’re decided to go to Yale with your girlfriend?” Dean asked with a smirk.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean.”

“I know, I know. She’s not your girlfriend,” Dean sniggered.

“As for the former thing, I haven’t got a reply yet, so we’ll see,” Sam continued.

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t be accepted,” Dean said. He was convinced that if there was anyone deserving to attend as prestigious school as Yale, than it was his brother.

“You never know,” Sam said and nuzzled Dean’s cheek gratefully. If Dean believed he had a chance, then it was everything he needed. “Maybe you’ll be able to go with me to California,” he whispered against his brother’s skin

Dean stared for a moment. “What? Another trip?”

“Only if you come with me. I’m not leaving you again. It was fucking hard for me too.”

Dean gave a sigh of relief. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Sam lifted his head, giving Dean a big smile. “You’re the best.”

Dean laughed. “I know. But now His Awesomeness needs a shower before all that come starts itching.”

Sam grinned as he rolled away. “I could join you.”

Dean chuckled, but shook his head. “That’ll be too distracting.”

Sam shrugged. “As you wish. Maybe next time.”

“Next time,” Dean promised and got out of bed to have his shower.

The next couple of weeks he worked his ass off so that he could go with Sam to California. Meanwhile Sam turned eighteen and got a brand new laptop as a mutual birthday gift from Dean, Bobby and Pamela.

“If you make it to collage, you’ll need a proper computer,” Dean said with a grin as Sam opened his present, totally amazed. He grabbed Dean’s collar then, pulling him close and kissing him hard right there in front of Bobby and Pamela. Dean returned the affection later, when he made love to Sam passionately and sweetly.

The trip to California became a reality and Dean wasn’t even surprised when he parked the Impala in front of Stanford University. Sam was totally amazed by all the possibilities of study and school activities while Dean liked the housings.

If Dean wanted to be honest, he felt like an alien there. All those highly educated people around, students hanging out and almost each of them carrying a heavy book, teachers looking busy and grandly. Dean with his three grades of high school study didn’t belong there, but Sam was ecstatic, so he pushed those feelings away, plastered a smile on his face and followed Sam wherever the younger brother moved.

Waiting for the affirmation letters got to everyone in the household. They tried to stay calm, but it was just pretense and Dean was sure that if the stupid letters wouldn’t come soon, there was an imminent danger of a nuclear catastrophe. Each of them dealt with nervousness in their own way: Pamela left for a couple of days, Bobby rarely left the garage or basement, Dean found his sanctuary at work, and Sam talked for hours with Samantha at school and after school. Sometimes the two kids came to see Dean in the bar while Sam was waiting for Bobby to pick him up and take him home and Dean mixed them something non-alcoholic, exchanged a few friendly words, but otherwise tended the bar with more enthusiasm than it was healthy.

And finally the most awaited envelopes reached Bobby’s salvage yard. Dean was surprised when he found a letter from Harvard among them. Sam was really aiming high.

Dean could feel his brother’s overwhelming nervousness as he handed him the mail. Sam put the glass of water he was holding on the kitchen counter and took the letters with a shaking hand, but didn’t open any of them, gazing at them for a long time. Dean felt like wrenching them from his hands and open them himself – _with his teeth_ – if it took Sam any longer.

“Open it!” he said impatiently, and probably something of his Warrior’s voice slipped into the tone, because Sam winced, looked at him, astonished, and opened the freaking envelops without hesitation.

“Sorry,” Dean apologized and bit his lip nervously, but Sam paid him no attention anymore. Instead, he was gazing at the letters, his face blank for a moment, and even from his emotions Dean couldn’t read anything. It was as though the time stopped.

Slowly, Sam’s face started lighting up, the well-known dimpled smile for which Dean would commit a murder stretched across it, and _finally_ the big brother could feel a pang of relief and happiness. It was so sudden his breath hitched, but once he understood, he couldn’t stop grinning himself.

“You did it! They accepted you!” he cried.

Sam nodded with a big grin. “All of them.”

“I knew it! I’m so proud of you, Sammy.”

Sam blushed, but he didn’t stop smiling, and Dean felt like bending him right over the kitchen table and take him – Sam was so gorgeous, so fucking amazing, and beautiful. At least he kissed him, his pride… and lust polluting the air around – why else would Sam have sunk to his knees and fiddled with Dean’s belt? And Dean would have let him if Bobby hadn’t been close and there hadn’t been the danger of him walking in on them any moment. So Dean pushed his brother’s hands away and pulled Sam back on his feet.

“Later,” he said with a smile. “Now go tell Bobby.”

Sam grinned, kissed Dean and ran out from the house.

They celebrated long until the night; even Pamela turned up as though she had known something was up. They started with whisky, then switched to beer, and Dean was curious if Sam was going to get drunk so stupidly just like he had managed a couple of years ago. But Sam was careful, didn’t drink more than he could manage, and Dean was proud of him the more.

They didn’t get to any action at night, both pleasantly exhausted and finally content, the nervousness of the past couple of weeks completely gone. They snuggled to each other and fell into a deep healthy sleep.

Dean was convinced they were going to New Haven, Connecticut, because Sam’s girlfriend ( _fine,_ not his girlfriend) was obviously firmly decided to attend Yale, judging from the short conversation Dean had with her one day when she came over. What a surprise it was when Sam told him he wanted to go to Stanford!

“What? Why?” Dean asked, surprised with the news and rather confused.

Sam only shrugged. “I decided so.”

“But… What about Sam?” Dean was so shocked that he didn’t even realize that for the first time he called the girl by the same abbreviation of her name as was his brother’s.

Sam frowned. “Who?”

Dean truly believed Sam was just kidding; maybe he was just too used to Dean refusing to call her the same way as he called his brother, but Sam acted as though the girl never meant more than a schoolmate to him.

“Didn’t you want to go to college with her?”

“Why would I do that?” Dean’s question sincerely surprised Sam.

“Because she’s your friend and most likely she’ll be the only one you’ll know there…”

“That’s not true. I’d have you. I’ll have you in Stanford, too…”

“But I’m not going to go to school with you!” Dean was slowly losing his patience. Sam either didn’t understand or he didn’t want to. “Tell me one good reason why Stanford and not Yale. “

“Because I like it there better,” Sam said simply, and Dean gave up.

“All right. It’s Stanford, then,” he said, never mentioning Samantha again.

Things went fast from that day. Sam was busy with paperwork for his student loan and Dean was forging his documents. They could hardly go as brothers since even commoners could see they were more. Anyway, if they wanted to get a housing for couples, they needed a cover.

“Dean Wesson?” Sam wondered as he saw Dean’s fake driving license.

“What? W’s still in it,” Dean defended himself.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You wanted to.”

Sam grinned and leaned to Dean’s ear. “I only wanted to tell you how much I appreciate what you do.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and glanced at Sam strangely. “You’re weird,” he said, but when his fingers brushed his brother’s hand, Sam could feel Dean’s joy.

One evening Dean came to Sam with a suspicious blush. He smelled like a bar – the stench of his work – but he definitely wasn’t drunk despite the bright gleam in his eyes.

“I quit the work. Guessed it was about time,” he said, voice low and gruff.

Sam only nodded, waiting. He could see there was more on Dean’s heart.

“I wanted to settle one thing before we go,” the older brother continued after a few intakes of breath.

“We still have a couple of weeks,” Sam said softly.

“Right…” Dean said and pulled off his ring that he wore for years. “Do you know what this is?” He showed it to Sam.

Sam gave him a quizzical look. “The ring Dad gave you a long time ago?” he offered.

“Almost. It’s Mom’s wedding band.”

“Is it?” Sam asked, tilting his head to the side.

“You don’t remember?”

Sam shook his head.

Dean sighed and reached for Sam’s left hand. Sam could feel his brother’s love and pride, all focused on him.

Dean pulled the ring on Sam’s ring finger. “It’s time to pass it down on you…”

Sam blinked. “What?” He focused on Dean’s emotions streaming to him through the touch, but the only thing he could feel was the same gentleness. “You… you’re not gonna…”

Dean raised an eyebrow, a small smile curling his lips. “What, Sammy?”

Sam swallowed. “Are you asking me to…?”

“To what?” A sudden smirk appeared on Dean’s face and a flash of mischief glistened in the green of his eyes. The joy of a good joke slipped into Dean’s emotions and Sam finally understood.

“You fucker!” he cried, half-outraged and half-relieved. “It’s the cover.”

Dean’s smirk stretched into a full-force grin. Offended, Sam wanted to wrench his hand out of his brother’s grip, but Dean held him firmly.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice was gentler than a while ago, and something like regret tinted his feelings. “I want you to keep the ring,” he said and this time he was serious.

Sam watched him for a moment. “Why?” he asked, deciding whether it wasn’t some kind of a trick again. Somehow Dean had managed to fool him even on the emotional level.

“Because it means something,” Dean said in a low voice, looking away. His embarrassment wasn’t a fake one this time, Dean made sure Sam could feel it. No tricks, no hiding. Only the God-honest truth.

Sam nodded and smiled, looking at his hand with the ring.

Bobby passed them on his way for beer. “Why are you grinning like two loons?” he asked.

“We just got engaged,” Dean said cheerfully, the broad grin never leaving his face. Sam only chuckled.

“Uhm, congrats,” Bobby responded, unimpressed. “Now you could spend your time doing something productive. How about finally starting packing?”

“One would think you want us out of the house,” Dean teased.

“Morons,” Bobby grumbled and left them alone.

“He loves us,” Dean said, smirking.

Sam laughed. “But you know he’s right.”

“Yup. So move your ass. We have work to do.”

In a few days the Winchester boys said goodbye to the salvage yard and headed toward their new life. Bobby ordered them not to be strangers and call as often as they could, while Pamela kept silent. Sam hugged her and thanked for all her care and guidance throughout the years, but she only patted his shoulder and smiled, not saying anything. As the Impala disappeared on the horizon she turned to the house, looking at it with as much as regret as far as Bobby could say.

“I’ll be off in a while, too,” she pronounced gravely.

Bobby frowned. “What? Why?”

“My task is finished. With Sam gone, I have nothing to do here anymore.”

“That’s bullshit,” Bobby said, still watching the road winding through the land. “This is your shelter. Your home I daresay.”

Pamela didn’t say anything. She only shrugged and was gone before the nightfall.

The house was strangely silent and empty, reminding Bobby of the time before he met the Winchesters. He thought of Mary and her love for her husband that killed her in the end. He remembered how he had tried to persuade her to stay, but she had gone with John nevertheless, promising to come back to her sons… What would she have said if she had seen what they had become? The young men, living their own life, strong and proud and together, a perfect Pair, brothers and lovers. Would she have been happy for them or would she have freaked out just like John had? What would she have said to Bobby that he had allowed them to walk that way?

Bobby was proud of the boys and he liked thinking of them as his sons. In a way, they actually were, he had brought up Sam and he had offered Dean a shelter under his roof, guided him when he could see the boy had needed it, he as much as had adopted the two orphaned existences when they had lost their father. They were his children now and he would have given his life for them.

They were barely gone and Bobby already missed them. He got drunk that night.

Sam and Dean on the other hand were full of expectations and excitement. They turned a page in the book of their life and started a new chapter. Stanford was waiting for them, the city of many possibilities, but they both knew it wouldn’t be easy and they would have to work hard to achieve their goals.

They knew they would. As long as they were together, they could do anything. They were a team, one unit, and they were strong like that. They knew they would be just fine.

The campus life was noisy and unrestrained – parties, brotherhoods and sisterhoods, clubs, study groups, music bands, sport teams, events of any kind. Dean would have loved to explore the various forms of a college student life, but he wasn’t a student, he didn’t belong among those people, and unless he was with Sam, he had no access anywhere. Sam, on the other hand, wasn’t interested in such activities and after attending two or three parties, he gave them a big stop and better spent time in a library or in bed with Dean.

They liked the apartment they were given. Their neighbors were usually young married couples with a clear idea of their future life. Sam and Dean only knew they wanted to be together. Sam didn’t care much about what he studied and Dean stopped caring about people around him pretty soon. He tried to find his way among their circles, but he always felt he was a stranger there, so he stopped and minded his own business, coming to campus only to meet up with Sam after his school day was over. Otherwise Dean spent days in the town, looking for a job. He found it in the end, following his bartender career in a local and probably not so legal night club, which led to less time for his brother. Sometimes, when Dean had night shifts, the boys didn’t see each other for a whole day. And when they did, they usually ended up in bed.

With passed-by days Dean realized that his and Sam’s mutual life painfully constricted to sex and even though he loved such moments, he was pretty disappointed with the way their life turned out. They weren’t a team, one unit, anymore. They were two people, living their own lives and meeting in the same bed. They weren’t the lovers they used to be anymore, they turned into fuck buddied and they didn’t even notice when it happened. They still loved each other, God, they absolutely did! It was the only thing that helped Dean to carry on – the thing that helped him to hide his frustration from Sam. When he tried to read in Sam’s feelings, he could find very similar discontent, but also determination to persist. Sam wanted his degree and Dean wasn’t going to be the one to ruin that for him. No, he was going to be a good boy and do anything to help Sam to reach his goal, no matter how tough it would be.

Still, Dean looked forward to Christmas like a kid. The holidays meant more time for each other. It meant getting back to what they were. And going back where they loved it.

Dean hated it in Stanford. He hated it more and more every day he spent there. And slowly he started feeling the familiar restlessness and tingling under his skin that meant the need for a good fight.

So far, he let everyone around think that he was a gentle guy with gentle manners, true gay, loving sucking the cock of his fiancé or taking it up the ass from him whenever he could. But now he had enough. The anger that had been building up in him for almost half a year already found its way out when an intrusive drunk customer didn’t leave alone one of the girls working in the club, even though she told him she didn’t provide the services he asked her for and he got rude and violent. The things would have gone bad if Dean hadn’t stepped in, taught the guy a lesson about good manners with his fists and threw him out. After that he was offered another job as a wrestler in definitely illegal wrestling matches in the club underground. Dean didn’t hesitate and accepted the offer. The job not only helped him to keep his Warrior side under control, but most importantly was very well paid.

Sam didn’t say anything about Dean’s new job. Dean could feel Sam didn’t like the fact it was illegal, but he understood the importance of Dean releasing the steam. He only insisted on healing Dean’s injuries after every match; it was his duty, he said, because it was Dean’s need for a fight fulfilled, not just some whim. And he definitely appreciated the extra money, although he didn’t leave his part-time job in a pizzeria. Every dollar counted.

Dean could feel the tension in the air. Sam didn’t like how little time they had for each other, but nothing changed in their lives. Dean was grateful when finally it was Christmas and he and Sam were driving back to Bobby for the holidays.

To his displeasure, even the atmosphere in the car was different than he remembered. He felt like he needed to do something with it before they even reached the salvage yard.

“Hey, Sam,” Dean addressed his brother hesitantly after a couple of hours. “We’ve been sleeping together for years already and we’ve never done it in the Impala…” He left the implication hang in the air.

There was silence for a long time, but Dean could feel Sam’s confusion turning into interest and impatience.

“Over there,” Sam said after some time. “Pull the car behind those bushes.”

Dean did as he was told. He cut off the engine and without looking at Sam he said, “Backseat. Lose the pants.”

He got out from the car, then, and walked to the trunk. There, he dug out a half-empty bottle of lube and several packages of paper tissues. He had a reason why he had never allowed sex in the Impala. He didn’t need Sam’s come all over the seats, but this time was different. This time they needed something that would bring them back together again. If Dean had to choose between his brother and his car, he would picked Sam in a heartbeat.

By the time he found things, Sam was ready. Dean slid inside, pushed Sam on the seat and started kissing him greedily while stroking him to hardness. Sam kissed back with more desperation and urgency than Dean had been used to lately. He was decided to give Sam everything he needed. Good thing was they didn’t need to talk, their shared emotions told them unmistakably what the other one wanted.

When Dean finally sank into Sam’s wet heat, it felt like finally finding what once was lost. They were THEM again, just Dean and Sam, Warrior and Protector, lovers, brothers, best friends.

Dean came hard inside of his brother spread under him and bent in unnatural angles, but not complaining and taking everything – for Dean, for them, for returning to what they had been.

“I love you,” Dean whispered the words that he hadn’t spoken and hadn’t heard for months. Sam groaned and shivered, his own orgasm robbing him of senses as he tried to confess himself. The result was an incomprehensible babble, but Dean understood, and even if he hadn’t, the rush of Sam’s love through his veins was eloquent enough.

He laughed and held Sam’s knot firmly in his hand, the tiny movements increasing his brother’s pleasure.

Sam finally relaxed, still panting and smiling like an idiot, spent and obviously tired.

“I love your laughter,” he said, looking at Dean with half-lidded eyes. “Haven’t heard it for so long…”

Dean nodded and started wiping the come away from his hands and Sam’s belly.

“I missed your smile,” he admitted, avoiding Sam’s eyes. “Felt like centuries.”

“Yeah…” Sam said, letting Dean take care of him. There was so much they missed. Morning runs, trainings, lazing around in the sun, Dean pulling Sam’s dog tail and playing with his soft dog ears… Sam hadn’t shifted since summer and neither of them knew which one missed it more.

Dean kissed Sam one more time before he zipped his jeans and got back to the driver’s seat. Sam, instead of pulling his pants back on, he got rid of the rest of his clothes, turned into his dog form and curled up. Dean started the car and pulled it on the road. He turned down the radio, driving to South Dakota, letting Sam sleep peacefully in the backseat.

Bobby welcomed them with beer and pie, calling them idjits as he handed them the bottles. Everything was as always, even their room didn’t miss anything of its charm. The only thing amiss was Pamela, who never turned up. Sam was a little upset about that. It kind of felt like a betrayal of his little pack.

Christmas came and went, and Bobby found a case. Sam and Dean contemplated the idea to go back to California sooner than they planned, but neither of them was too eager about it. In the end they hopped the Impala and took off to take care of the case instead of Bobby, very well aware they might miss the beginning of the new term. It still was worth it.

As they expected, they found demons with stolen essences. One by one they managed to take them down, rescuing the essences that dissolved into nothing the moment the demons died.

They didn’t return to Bobby’s salvage yard after the hunt. They hurried back to Sanford, where they believed that now, when they knew what their problem was, could work with it. It turned out they were mistaken. Dean had more work than he expected with all the wrestling – he never said no, seeing the value of each dollar he could earn. Sam, on the other hand, studied like crazy and spent a lot of time in the library.

He frustration was back, therefore Sam thought they could at least spent Dean’s twenty-third birthday together. He gave up studying for that one evening. Dean was supposed to be home by seven, but it was already nine and he still didn’t come from work. Sam tried to call him several times, but Dean never picked up his phone.

Sam knew where Dean was. He was used to attune to his brother’s location every time they weren’t together (which was almost always lately) - if he couldn’t be with Dean, he could at least feel him.

Dean was fine. If he hadn’t, Sam would have felt it. So it meant there was no excuse for Dean to be so late without letting his brother know.

Sam was disappointed and mad. He decided to check on his brother and find out what delayed him. He turned into his dog form and followed the feeling of Dean’s location.

It wasn’t hard to find him. Sam had his expectation that turned out to be right. When he found the Impala parked nearby the night club where Dean worked, Sam only sighed heavily and sneaked inside. He hadn’t been there before, but he could imagine it according to Dean’s description. He didn’t like the place before, but he hated it now when he saw it. Half-naked girls dancing by poles, alcohol pouring in streams, sweaty men and rogues looking for a fight. And then, there was the basement.

Of course, wrestling matches were in a full swing and, of course, Dean was there, scratched and bruised and satisfied with himself, just getting his payment for a won fight. He knew immediately Sam was there, he could feel his presence. He jerked his head up and met Sam’s eye.

Sam was mad and he let his brother know. He was hurt, disappointed and sad.

“I gotta go,” Dean said to the guy that handed him a thick roll of notes.

“What do you mean you gotta go?” asked the guy.

“I mean I’m leaving. I’m not wrestling anymore tonight.”

“You can’t…” the guy tried to protest, but Dean cut him off.

“I can and I am. See you later.”

With that Dean walked to Sam. They kept staring at each other for a moment in a silent communication, then they turned to the door and slowly walked back into the bar and out from there into the cold starry night. Dean opened the back door for the dog and Sam hopped into the car. Dean slid into the driver’s seat and drove away from the bar.

They didn’t talk even when they got home. Sam disappeared in their bedroom and Dean checked what it was for the delicious smell the air carried a tinge of. In the kitchen, he found cold dinner – Sam must have cooked – and a bottle of wine on the counter. Dean took the bottle into his hands, it was a good year.

They scarcely had time for such luxury like eating together, not talking about a dinner like this. He knew why Sam was mad.

“Sit down,” he heard from behind his back. He turned around and saw Sam, all human and beautiful, wearing just his soft sweatpants.

Dean put the bottle back on the counter and sat down in one of the chairs by the set table without saying a word. Sam knelt beside him and took Dean’s hand, Dean opened his mind, but pushed anything he didn’t want Sam to see deeper into the darker corners of his soul and locked it there. Barely had he done that when Sam’s consciousness pushed inside of him and forced his immunity to work faster. Scratches closed and healed, bruises disappeared.

Sam pulled back and opened his eyes, giving Dean a serious look. His hand still rested in Dean’s – maybe because he wanted to feel what Dean felt or maybe because he was simply hanging on the straw of their relationship. There was a clear question in his eyes: _Why?_

Dean shrugged. “For you.”

Sam frowned and stood up, letting go of Dean’s hand.

 _Bad answer,_ Dean thought and stayed sitting. He could hear Sam getting in shower. He thought what to do. He was hungry and the food looked delicious. He warmed it in the microwave and ate.

Meanwhile Sam left the bathroom and went into the bedroom. He didn’t return into the kitchen anymore.

Dean finished his dinner and went to the shower himself. When he entered the bedroom, he found Sam in bed and would have thought his brother was already asleep if there wasn’t that heavy atmosphere in the air, only that this time Sam was more sad than angry.

Dean crawled in bed and carefully he put his arm around Sam’s waist, pressing his chest to Sam’s back. Sam didn’t pull away, didn’t react in any visible way, there was only a slight change in his emotions. He still loved Dean more than anything, but he felt like he was losing him. Dean felt pretty much the same about Sam. The question was what they could do about it.

 _Tonight nothing,_ he thought as he pressed his mouth to Sam’s neck.

“Happy birthday, jerk,” Sam mumbled, turning to Dean and settling comfortably in his arms.

“Thank you. Good night, puppy,” Dean replied gently and closed his eyes.

The next few days were awkward. Dean felt guilty for his ruined birthday celebration and Sam looked like he wanted to tell him something, but didn’t know how.

One day in the middle of February when they both had free evening so they decided to spend it together watching old gangster movies, Dean said, “I quit the job in the night club.”

Sam had to put the beer he was drinking on the coffee table in front of him and looked at his brother, surprised. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“You didn’t like it,” Dean said simply, his eyes still glued to the TV screen.

“Yes, but…”

“I stopped fighting two weeks ago and yesterday I stopped altogether,” Dean said and slowly turned to Sam, maybe hoping Sam would understand.

Sam didn’t. “Why?”

Dean turned back to the TV, taking a sip from his beer. “It was either money or you. I chose.”

This time Sam could see the bigger picture. They needed a change, he felt that himself, but they hadn’t talked about it so far. Until today. Dean made the first step. Maybe not the wisest, but…

“Do you have something new?” Sam asked cautiously.

“Nope,” Dean said serenely.

Sam nodded. He understood the sacrifice.

“Gimme a few days.”

“You have as many as you need,” Sam said softly, but Dean shook his head.

“I don’t.”

That was true. If they wanted to get through this, they needed a new income as soon as possible.

“My part time pays off poorly, but it’s at least something. I can ask for more frequent shifts until you find something else,” he suggested. This wasn’t only about the money. Dean needed to do something as well. He needed to feel useful.

Dean only nodded, still staring at the TV, drinking his beer, not looking at Sam. There was more about the issue he didn’t want to talk about. Sam thought he knew what it was, but he didn’t want to talk about it, either.

“I love you, Dean,” he said softly instead.

Dean glanced at him and then settled comfortably leaning against Sam. “Bitch,” he growled, but smiled.

“Jerk,” Sam shot back, grinning as well. He pressed a kiss on Dean’s temple and they both got back to watching the movie.

It took Dean some time to find a new job. While Sam went to school, studied like crazy and took double shifts in the pizzeria, coming home late and exhausted, Dean spent days roaming the city and looking for something suitable for him. Once or twice Sam dropped a remark Dean could finish his high school studies and continue in a police academy or something (“You already know so much, they’d be happy to have you.”), but Dean didn’t want. It would have cost them more money they could afford to spend, anyway.

In the end, he found a job as a mechanic in a service department. It was a peaceful work, he did his shit and no one cared about him as long as he did the job right and on time. Sam went back to the ordinary frequency and length of his shifts in the pizzeria. From time to time when he worked evenings or went to the library, Dean visited the bars in the neighborhood, trying to win some money in poker or pool.

Shortly after Sam’s nineteenth birthday (which they celebrated together this time), Dean felt that familiar unease again. He tried to mask it in front of Sam, his brother seemed to struggle with problems of his own. They didn’t talk about it, but one day Sam stormed through the front door, threw his back in the nearest corner and growled, “Pack, we’re going on a hunting trip.”

“What?” Dean put the beer he was drinking on the coffee table in front of him, looking at Sam, perplexed. Sam sounded so much like Dad in that moment. He was upset and wanted to get the hell away from Stanford as far as possible. “What happened?”

“Nothing. I’m just fed up with this life. I need a break and you do, too,” said Sam. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” Dean stopped him. “I can’t just go. I have a job. I need to inform my boss I won’t be available for some time…”

Sam pulled his pleading dog face. “Please?”

“No, Sammy, I can’t,” Dean said and sighed. He wanted to go for a hunt, but he had his responsibilities. “You found a case?” he asked Sam cautiously.

“No,” Sam said, frowning.

“So where the hell did you want to go?”

“Anywhere. We’d call Bobby. He’d surely know about something.”

Dean capitulated. “I’ll ask my boss tomorrow, all right?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, looking calmer but Dean could feel his disappointment.

They didn’t leave in the end. Sam had exams and needed to study for it and Dean picked a fight in a bar, which calmed him enough to go on for some time without a problem.

They already looked forward to the summer. They wanted to visit Bobby for a longer time period and go for that hunting trip they had planned, but things changed again.

Sam came home late at night, evidently in a bad mood.

“I hate this,” he announced from the doorway. “I hate that we have so little time for each other, I hate that I spend more time with strangers than you and I hate that we are unable to do anything with it. And I know you hate it, too.”

“What do you want to do, then?” Dean asked calmly.

“I don’t know,” Sam said helplessly. “I like my school. I just hate how the things turned out.”    

“Yeah, me too,” admitted Dean and left for the bedroom. It was pointless talking about those things when they couldn’t do anything about them. And he was tired for such conversations.

Sam obviously didn’t get it, because when he joined Dean in the bedroom, he started again. “Dean, I know you hate this place,” he said, and his voice was low and controlled this time. “You hate the city, the campus and the people around…”

Dean closed his eyes and counted to three. “How do you know that?” he asked tiredly, he asked as he got to bed.

Sam got rid of the redundant pieces of his clothing and slid under the covers as well. “I’m not an idiot,” he said as he snuggled up to Dean. “I’ve known it from the very beginning. Even though you’ve hidden your feelings from me – I don’t know how you managed that, but I don’t like it – your deeds were eloquent enough. You were trying, but you were failing.”

Dean sighed. It didn’t matter he was caught. There were other, more important things to solve. “Again, what do you wanna do with it, Sammy?”

Sam stayed quiet for a while.

“I thought so,” Dean said and closed his eyes.

“First thing, I want to move out from the campus,” Sam said eventually. “Maybe the change of the surroundings will help a little.”

“Do you believe that?”

“Yes.”

“Fine,” Dean capitulated, and maybe he was even a little happy about that.

The moment Sam’s first year was over they spent days looking for a cheap and suitable accommodation. The apartment they found after weeks of looking was quite small, quite far from the campus, but quite close to Dean’s work, with quite good neighborhood, not as cheap as they would have preferred, but not as bad as the other apartments they visited. With the change of location Sam changed his part time job as well. He left the pizzeria and started helping in the service department where Dean worked. This enabled them to spend more time together and even if they worked on different things in different parts of the garage, they could feel each other’s presence and that little fact always settled them. They felt calmer, happier, they laughed more and argued less. The life still wasn’t easy, but was definitely getting better.

They didn’t even notice when Christmas came until carols were playing from every direction. They packed and went to see Bobby again. This time even Pamela was there. The boys didn’t ask her if she was planning to stay or disappear for another year and a half again after Christmas. Especially Sam was distant to her, she was the one who had torn their pack after all, unable to understand that felines like her didn’t form packs. Only slowly he warmed toward her and accepted her back.

After the boys’ departure back to Stanford she confessed to Bobby.

“Company can be overwhelming for me sometimes,” she said one cold evening. “But I feel safer here. The demon thieves spread like plague and I’m no match for them.”

“Did you cross your way with any?” Bobby asked, but she never answered that question.

“They boys will be back soon,” she prophesied instead.

Dean’s twenty-fourth birthday passed and there was no sign telling Bobby the Winchesters were ever planning to return. They never filled him much into their current life, but he knew they had had problems, but they worked hard to solve them.

Sometimes it was harder than expected. One completely ordinary April day Dean came home from work in bad mood, finding Sam bending over his thick law books. He really didn’t feel like being understanding or supportive. He needed Sam to hold him, kiss him, say it was okay, swear at certain people with Dean, tell him he wasn’t useless. But Sam did nothing of that. When he was engrossed in his books, he didn’t pay much attention to anything else and the usually perceptive Sam turned into an insensitive bitch. Often Dean cursed his Protector’s disability to feel his emotions without the touch, even though he knew that most likely he was the only individual on the planet with such a skill. He was a unique Warrior. Sam was an ordinary Protector. And the last two years, it pissed Dean off.

“I’d really have used your help today,” he growled as he came up to the table at which Sam was sitting and reading some bullshit in a thick book of his.

“I needed to study,” Sam said simply, not even raising his head from the book.

“You always study,” Dean said reproachfully, knowing he wasn’t fair, but the day had been pretty shitty and he already had enough.

“Because I need to. In a couple of weeks…”

“But I DON’T want to wait a couple of weeks!” Dean said and shut the book in front of Sam. “I need you NOW.”

Sam looked at him angrily. “Are you insane? I told you…”

“I heard you, but I DON’T CARE,” he said emphatically.

He didn’t even know what triggered it. One moment they were shouting at each other, next moment they wanted to punch each other in the face, but magic of their bond didn’t allow that. Both frustrated, they tried to do as much harm as they could at least, crazy that while Dean could get Sam on his back, Sam couldn’t do even that. It was an unfair match, turning them even angrier at each other. If they couldn’t punch they were at least grabbing, squeezing, showing , manhandling, blocking, holding, rubbing, kissing, yanking, licking, biting, bruising, leaving imprints, touching, pinching, undressing , sucking, pushing, pulling, sighing, groaning, Sam surrendering, Dean thrusting inside of him. It was angry, it was vicious, rough, hard, fast, intense. The orgasm washed away the frustration and they snuggled up to each other on the kitchen floor, sticky with saliva, sweat and come.

“I’m not studying anymore tonight,” Sam said after some time.

“I recommend that to you. Unless you want a second round,” Dean said with a smile.

“Oh… Can we have that round without the angry foreplay?”

Dean laughed. “Sure we can. But in bed this time.”

Sam chuckled and followed his brother into the bedroom.

They didn’t have an argument since then. Sam was trying to synchronize his daily routine with Dean’s even more and Dean, seeing that, stopped bitching when his brother was busy studying. He was grateful that Sam stayed home with him at least and didn’t disappear into the library first chance he had. Sometimes he kept Sam company (not admitting that in fact he was the one who longed for it) and studied his brother’s emotions. He was getting better in this discipline and in the end he was able to distinguish even the slightest change in Sam’s mood.

Sam knew Dean missed wrestling and he also knew that it was going to cost them peace sooner or later. He managed to keep Dean calm and content as much as he could with closeness and sex, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough eventually. He started looking for a case.

It was his birthday when he found something weird in newspaper and thought it could be their kind of weird. Dean was snuggly that morning, but Sam could feel that calmness was slowly slipping away nevertheless.

“Happy twentieth birthday, old man,” Dean said the first words that day and smiled at Sam as they enjoyed the few peaceful minutes until they needed to get up.

“Who’re you calling old man, Methuselah?” Sam shot back.

Dean grinned and kissed Sam sweetly.

On his way to school Sam bought the newspaper and found an article about a missing girl who had disappeared by inexplicable circumstances. He thought they could check it out.

Found out they didn’t need to… When he could smell the strong whiff of sulfur, he knew he was in trouble.

There were three of them, assaulting him at home, one of them wearing the girl as a meatsuit. He called Dean immediately through their mental link, but he knew it would take his brother some time to get home. He was alone in this.

Two of the demons shifted. Cold chill ran up Sam’s spine as he could see the twisted figures of a fox and something that was probably supposed to be a bear, but the stolen essence was so damaged that it was hard to recognize. He didn’t have time to shift himself. He would have had to get rid of his clothes at first. Shifting while still dressed could have cost him many problems if he had gotten stuck in them. He couldn’t risk it.

The two demons attacked. Sam was aware that neither salt nor iron was going to help him here and nor a gun, only his teeth and claws, so he let them out at least.

It was a good thing he was trained. He could fend them off, but they were persistent. Sam had the disadvantage of his human body and being alone. He fought bravely, though. He used his teeth and claws whenever he could, leaving deep bites and scratches. He was frustrated that he couldn’t get to his opponents necks. The fox kept biting him in return (and infecting him with rabies, he was sure) while the almost-bear held him in his iron grip.

He soon realized they didn’t want to kill him, only to pacify him… and make him pay for every blow. He knew the only way to stop them was to take the stolen essences from them. He already had the fox in his grip when the almost-bear dislocated his arm. Sam howled in pain, but didn’t stop fighting. He sank his clawed hand into the fox’s chest and tore the essence out of it. The fox’s breath hitched and he gave a surprised squeak while the essence was dissolving in Sam’s hand.

“SAM!!!” he heard the beloved, horrified voice and he knew the help was there.

“Dean,” he breathed out and heard the shot. The not-fox-anymore shrieked and Sam could catch the Latin words of exorcism.

The almost-bear was still holding his dislocated arm. He pushed it, causing Sam so much pain he almost passed away.

Almost. But he didn’t. He slapped the critter across his face, leaving deep scratches spreading from his ear to mouth. The almost-bear roared, but he let go of Sam for a moment. Sam chanced a glance in his brother’s direction, seeing Dean in the grip of the third demon. The one without a Protector’s essence that held back while Sam was fighting her buddies.

If Sam wanted to save Dean, he needed to think of something and do it fast. Almost blind with pain he did the last desperate move, using the opening in the almost-bear’s defenses (he obviously didn’t count with the strength of Sam’s will to protect Dean by all means and therefore pushing himself to the very limits). He turned to his opponent and while the almost-bear was tearing his chest open with his other clawed paw, Sam tore the stolen essence out of him.

The almost-bear roared with fear and pain, his paws loosening the grip on Sam. Sam started reciting the exorcism formula immediately, holding the glowing essence in his hand. The other demon, fighting Dean, shrieked, too, wanting to attack Sam, but it got a full blast of rock salt in her back.

Sam continued with the exorcism when there was a dark force for which even the exorcism wasn’t enough.

“Hello, Sam. Dean,” it greeted them, and the next thing Sam remembered were flames all around and he was gripped by a strong hand, pulling him out of the apartment.

“I’ll see you again,” said the thing, and it’s yellow eyes glowed through the fire, their devilish light burning Sam from the inside, “the day when I obtain your essence.”

Sam didn’t hear more through the roar of the fire and Dean screaming in his hear that they needed to get out of there. Sam let his brother get him out and cram him into the Impala. He could catch the distant sound of sirens, but as Dean started the car and drove away, it slowly faded.

Sam felt exhausted and close to blacking out of pain.

“Dean,” he whined.

Dean glanced at him over his shoulder. “Crap,” he muttered and pulled the car to the side of the road. Then ran around the car and pulled Sam out of it. He made him sit on the curb and gently touched Sam’s dislocated arm.

“On the count of three,” he said and got into the position.

Sam nodded and took a deep breath.

“One. Two.”

Something snapped and great pain shot from Sam’s shoulder into his whole body. He screamed, but then took deep breath and smiled lightly. “Better.”

“Fine,” Dean said, studying his face. “Come on, I’m taking you to hospital. You’re bleeding like mad.”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll be fine,” Sam protested and wanted to stand up, but he lost his balance. Good thing Dean was there to steady him.

“You need bandages which I don’t have in the trunk. Not enough at least. You need the wounds to be cleaned…”

“And I need a shot against rabies. The fox was ill.”

“Fuck…” Dean cursed, sitting Sam in the passenger seat carefully.

“The essence was infected.”

“How could it be?” Dean didn’t understand.

“Body fluids. Blood. The essence is a part of what we are.”

“Fine, I get it,” Dean said, closed the door and then walked around the car and got in. He started the engine and pulled the Impala back on the road. “The owner of the essence of the ghoul is obviously still alive.”

“Huh? A ghoul?”

“He didn’t look like any animal I know.”

“He was a bear.”

“Didn’t look like one.”

“The essence was severely damaged.”

Dean nodded. “That explains the bleeding…”

“What?”

“You’re still holding it.”

Sam looked down at his good hand. He was gripping a glowing object, an essence that was obviously suffering a terrible pain as it was shivering… and bleeding. Sam could feel its torment and while he was in pain as well, that was probably why he didn’t even realize he was still holding it.

“It’s dying,” he said quietly. “If we don’t return it before it goes out…”

Dean glanced at him and there was understanding in his eyes, but also sadness. When he spoke, his voice was low and gentle, regretting. “Sammy, you’re more important right now…”

Sam nodded and watched the last moments of the dying essence as Dean drove to the nearest hospital.

He was holding it even when he was being examined and treated, scaring the crap out of doctors when they saw the bleeding light in his hand. They wanted him to let go, but Dean was more than persuasive when he told them to stop caring about the freaking light and do their damn job.

Later, sometime during the ride from the hospital, the light in Sam’s hand shimmered and the essence dissolved like many before. Sam sniffed quietly and two tears rolled down his cheeks.

Dean found them a motel where they stayed. Sam needed another shot against rabies next day, so they could hardly leave the town. Leave this life. They didn’t talk about it, not yet, but the demon attack reminded them who they were and why they were in danger.

Sam went to sleep immediately, exhausted from the fight and his injuries, and Dean guarded his sleep. The next day Dean took Sam to hospital for a checkup and another rabies vaccination. Sam was grumpy ever since he woke up and this definitely didn’t help him to get over his bad mood. When Dean brought him back to their motel, he ordered Sam to rest and went to arrange some things. Firstly, he quit his job. Secondly, he went to see their old apartment to find out what was left of it. He didn’t discover much. They lost everything they had in there.

In the afternoon, he wanted to talk to Sam about their plans, but realized he didn’t need to, which suited him. Sam asked him to take him to school and then the service department. He quit both. Dean was glad he avoided the conversation about Sam’s ruined future.

The next day Sam went for his last shot and while Dean was waiting for him, he took out Dad’ journal and started reading from the point where he had abandoned it a long time ago.

They set on their journey back to Sioux Falls and they still didn’t talk much. Sam wasn’t all right. There was hidden anger in him and Dean was afraid it would burst out in the most inappropriate moment.

“I hate clothes,” Sam said during the ride after a long time of silence. “I can’t change immediately…”

“That’s why you started wearing the ring I gave you on a chain around your neck?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” Sam admitted. “I don’t need to take it off every time I want to change this way.”

“I get it.”

They fell silent again and didn’t talk until they crashed in a motel. They snuggled to each other, especially Sam craved Dean’s presence more than anything right now and who was Dean to not grant him his wish?

They hadn’t called Bobby about what had happened, so the hunter was surprised to see then on his threshold.

“What’s up?” he asked instead of greeting them in his usual grumpy way as he let them in. Pamela was also there, which surprised Dean a little. Sam, on the other hand, seemed to expect that.

They sat down in the kitchen and waited until Bobby served them whisky, only then they told the hunter and the former Protector their story.

“What are your plans now?” Bobby asked calmly. He seemed calmer than Dean and Sam would have expected.

“To take down the yellow-eyed son of a bitch,” growled Dean and Sam agreed.

Bobby raised an eyebrow at them. “That’s what got your mom and dad killed,” he said matter-of-factly.”

“So what?” Dean asked, annoyed. “Are we gonna sit around and wait until he comes for us?”

“No. I say get ready, because you’re not. Neither of you. Whether you like it or not.”

Both boys pouted. They were not stupid brats. They knew getting the demon was no piece of cake.

“How do you want to do it, anyway? The bastard is resistant to exorcism,” Bobby pointed out.

“Sam’s teeth will do the job,” Dean said, and Sam gave the hunter a frown, obviously agreeing with his brother.

“Then it’s time to start training again,” Bobby summed. “I doubt you did as much as move your finger while you were gone, you idjits.” With that he left them, already concerned that the lives of the boys whom he loved as his own sons were not going to be long. But he believed there was a reason for things and if the Yellow-Eyed monster had already visited them, already knew about them, no matter where they went, they weren’t safe. That was why Bobby didn’t try to press on Sam to go back to school and Dean to do something useful in the meantime.

Things fell into routine soon: morning runs, training, helping Bobby in the garage, more training, studying Bobby’s books, reading Dad’s journal, going to bed, sometimes even having sex. Christmas found them like that, and soon after Dean turned twenty-five. From time to time Bobby found them a job, or Dean found something in Dad’ journal that needed a closer look at.

Months were going by and more often the boys spent time hunting than back at Bobby’s salvage yard. Ghosts and vengeful spirits, werewolves and vampires, rougarous, shapeshifters, creatures of the night, regular demons, even the sons of bitches using stolen essences.

They celebrated Sam’s twenty-first birthday properly: in a bar getting totally wasted. Never in his life Sam experienced a greater hangover. His head felt like it wanted to explode, he was absolutely sick and unable to move out from the bed, not knowing if he felt a tad better in his human or dog form. Dean had to bring him a bucket, while he spent the morning after in the bathroom himself. They hoped no critter planned an attack on them that day. They were able to function relatively normally only in the late afternoon.

“Heh, I call that a proper celebration of reaching the drinking age,” Dean summed the day smartly when they crawled back into bed in the evening.

“Shut up,” Sam grunted. “I’m never doing it again.”

“Sure, sure,” Dean chuckled.

“I mean it. And I’m definitely not kissing you after what I saw you threw out.”

Dean grinned. He knew better.

The next day they hardly got out of bed again, but this time for an absolutely different reason. When Sam knotted Dean for the third time that day and tried to devour him with his mouth, Dean knew that whatever threats Sam would make in this matter, they could hardly be taken seriously.

They continued hunting while gathering information about the Yellow-Eyed Demon. They were able to find very little about him despite the effort and the most they could find was in Dad’s journal, which meant not much. One piece of information was priceless for them, though. It was shortly before Dean’s twenty-sixth birthday when he stumbled over the memo about a weapon that could kill anything supernatural. He showed it to Sam one afternoon during a short visit at Bobby’s.

Sam frowned. “A colt?”

“ _The_ Colt,” Bobby corrected him. “It was made by the very famous Samuel Colt.”

“THAT Samuel Colt?”

“No. The one that brings you pizza every Saturday night,” grumbled Bobby. “Of course THAT Samuel Colt. Do you know any other?”

Sam grimaced. “Fine, I get it. So what is that colt for a gun?”

“The legend says that Samuel Colt, THE Samuel Colt, made a gun that could kill practically anything. He made thirteen silver bullets and used some strong mojo. But that’s it. Just a story.”

“According to Dad not just a story,” Dean said and pushed the journal in Bobby’s direction.

“Elkins?” Bobby asked with a frown.

“Yeah. Dad writes the Colt is in his possession. He saw it.”

“I haven’t heard of the guy for some time,” Bobby said.

“I met him years ago at Harvelle’s,” Dean suddenly remembered. “When he heard Dad was dead, he took off. Never explained.”

“Strange.”

“Yeah. Here’s the address, we should probably check it out,” Dean turned to his brother.

Sam nodded. “We have work to do.”    

The hopes for retrieving the only effective weapon against the Yellow-Eyed Demon were shattered when they found the dead body of the old hunter in his own cabin. Sam caught the smell of vampires and since Elkins was known as a vampire hunter, it made sense. In the mess around the boys found a wooden box that had contained a colt and thirteen bullets once.

“Crap,” Dean cursed, but Sam smirked and started undressing.

“We’ll have it in our possession soon, baby,” he said cheerfully before he shifted.

The smell of the vamps was strong and rather fresh, so it was no problem for him to find the nest. They waited for daylight and had a rest in the meantime. Then Dean took a machete for both him and Sam, even though Sam was already very good at ripping throats open. Ready and high on adrenalin they entered the old barn the vampires had inhabited.

Their only goal was to get the Colt, not to clean the mess. Once they had the Colt, they could call Bobby and his friend Rufus and wipe the nest out of the Earth’s surface. It would have been easy a task if they hadn’t tried to save an innocent victim, only to find out she was innocent no more. When she started shrieking, the whole nest was on their feet and the boys had to fight their way out.

Sam’s fangs were effective as for slowing down the enemies, but to kill the critters, he needed a sharp blade just like Dean. They were a good team, though, and managed to take down as many vampires as they could before they escaped. To their utmost disappointment, the vampire who held the Colt in his possession had escaped as well. Sam wasn’t sure about his scent, but after long hours of chasing after the vamp and his lover and an ambush of the vampires who survived the carnage in the barn, they managed to lay their hands on the Colt.

The big chase could start.

 


	27. Cut Off

 

Unfortunately, there was no sign of either the Yellow-Eyed bastard or his bitches. Sam and Dean spent a whole year looking for him. Meanwhile Sam turned twenty-two and Dean twenty-seven. They had spent the year hunting whatever they could and trying to gather as much information as possible, but with no result. Bobby helped them actively, either with the cases or getting as much knowledge about the Yellow-Eyed Demon and his minions as he could. Even Pamela left and came back with pieces of valuable information

Sam was about to turn twenty-three when she returned with grave news about “devilish beasts” killing Warriors. The four of them knew immediately what it meant. Sam, Dean and Bobby chased the trace while it was fresh. They visited the homes of the dead Warriors and found even more bodies than they had anticipated.

“This is genocide,” said Dean, bending over a torn and already decaying body of a fellow hunter.

“You think?” Bobby said sarcastically. This was the fifth body in a row they found like this.

Sam was sniffing around in his dog form. When he turned, no one was bothered by his nakedness. They were already used to it and understood it as something perfectly natural.

“Strong smell of sulfur,” he announced.

“You don’t say,” said Bobby. It was another of his friends he could see in pieces and therefore he took the whole thing personally.

“A wolf,” Sam continued as though he hadn’t heard him. “And a fox. The fox was ill.” Sam’s eyes widened and then his face contorted with annoyance. “No, not rabies again…” he whined.

“It’s really curious that while you are immune to most of human illnesses, you still can get infected by something like rabies,” Bobby commented dryly.

Sam snorted. “Yeah… And if I don’t want to catch it, I should keep my distance…” he summed.

Bobby and Dean exchanged their looks. Sam was right. And as long as they didn’t want to waste all the bullets on the sick bastards, they needed to find another way to get the world rid of them.  

They started a new chase, but the world was suddenly quiet again. Dean thought they must have gotten pretty close if there were suddenly no demons again. Which meant no tracks to the Yellow-Eyed monster. Even Sam couldn’t catch the smell of sulfur.

So they hunted what they could, getting information together again. Meanwhile Sam turned twenty-three. He and Dean celebrated his birthday in the best way they could. At first Dean gave Sam the best mind-blowing blowjob in history. Then he was allowed to fiddle with Dean’s body until he was able to get it up again. Then Dean climbed on him and rode him like a cowboy. Sam watched the straining of muscles, sweat rolling down Dean’s temples and when their eyes met, Sam could see deep into Dean’s soul. He knotted him and lay him down on the bed, kissing for a long time and helping him to reach orgasm. They rested then, cuddling and talking about easy, uncomplicated stuff, teasing each other, waiting until they were ready for another round. This time Sam wanted Dean to have the pleasure of penetration, so Dean took his brother sweetly from behind. They were lying on their sides, chest pressed to back, Sam’s leg in the air and bent in knee, his head tilted to the side, giving Dean a better access to his neck, and Dean’s cock sliding in and out in the very best angle. The pace was slow, but Dean was going as deep as he could, then out, and then deep in again. Until he was done, Sam was hard again, ready to knot him one more time. Dean was still basking in the afterglow when Sam slipped inside and made them inseparable for another almost half-hour. After that even thinking about another round made them exhausted. They giggled and made fun that they were too old for having sex all night long. They snuggled to each other and fell asleep. It was five o’clock in the morning. They slept until noon, but it was late afternoon when they finally got out of bed after a handjob Sam gave Dean and Sam’s humping Dean’s beautiful, strong, firm body.

They celebrated Dean’s twenty-eighth birthday in the same way during their stop in Harvelle’s Roadhouse, and laughed inwardly at the angry looks they were getting the next day. They made out again in the Impala while waiting for Ash to get together some information for them and were caught in the act by twenty-one-year-old Jo, who had still a thing for Dean. It was awkward and that finally made them stop.

“I can’t believe it, you’re like rabbits,” Jo fumed, turned away from the car as she waited until Dean got out. Sam stayed inside, waiting for his knot to shrivel into its normal size.

Dean didn’t say anything to her comment. Regular sex, no matter where or how wild, was a normal thing to him. It was Sam who used to complain about who could see/hear them. Not always, though. Dean found out a long time ago that if Sam was excited enough, his upper brain simply stopped working. Dean learned to use that to his advantage.

He went inside with Jo to meet Ash at one of the tables. The Dr. Badass genius managed to collet pretty much information about demon activity in the last four years. He brought a huge map, unfolded it on the pool table and explained to Dean where and when the activity had been strong while Dean was thinking what he and Sam had been doing that time. He understood there was some connection between him and Sam doing their friggin’ job and the sons of bitches crawling out of Hell.

And that was the point when the hell on Earth started…

It was a little army: regular demons, the motherfuckers with stolen essences, big, small, and all of them incredibly strong. They went right for Warriors, but also killing anyone who stood in their way.

Dean sent a mental message to Sam, but even though he could feel Sam’s presence, he also could feel his brother was occupied and angry that he couldn’t get to Dean. He was fighting fiercely wherever he was, trying to rush to Dean to help him, but he couldn’t. And Dean had enough demons to fight himself.

The ones with stolen essences were absolutely resistant to salt or iron or even Devil’s Traps if there was a fool trying to trap them in one. Dean already knew that the only possible way to kill them was to part them from the Protector essence. When Dean concentrated hard, he could see the dark glowing light in their chests, and he knew what to do.

He managed to take down two of them this way.

“Jo! Ellen! The essence! Go for the essence!” he called at the women, who were slowly giving in to the enormous demon power.

“What!?” Ellen cried, perplexed.

“The essence! The big dark glowing ball in their chests!”

“I can see nothing!” This time Jo called, and if she hadn’t jumped away in the very last second, she would have ended up with her throat ripped open.

Dean hurried to her and protected her from another blow. A very strange partly changed lion snatched after his arm and was about to tear his head off when Dean kicked him and dived his hand into the lion’s chest, ripping the essence out of him. The thing glowed for the last time and dissolved.

“What was that?” Jo breathed out.

“A stolen essence of a Protector. You really couldn’t see it? They’re everywhere,” Dean didn’t understand. She was a Warrior, but even he needed to concentrate. However, once he tapped on that power, he had no problem to distinguish who was a thief and who just a regular Hell’s bitch. He thought of Sam, who couldn’t be fooled even if the critters didn’t use their stolen powers, and the realization hit him suddenly. Dean wasn’t just a Warrior. He was partly a Protector, too. Probably seeing essences was a Protector thing and that was why Jo couldn’t see them. No one but Dean inside this stupid house could see them…

Another demon attacked them, but this one was regular… and pissed.

“Jo, run!” Dean cried and tried to stop the demon in the pursuit.

Suddenly, there were many of them, enclosing him in a tight circle, grinning, staring at him hungrily… Dean prepared himself for a new fight… when suddenly a terrible pain he had never experienced before, seized him. He was on the verge of blacking out, but he couldn’t, there was some power keeping him awake, and even though his legs had given up under him, he was still standing, staring into the hateful eyes of a demon thief of a wolf essence grinning at him malevolently. His wolf’s clawed hand was dipped in Dean’s chest, searching for something – for the Protector’s essence he didn’t have.

He could read confusion in the wolf’s face. “You’re not a Protector!” he barked. “How come you look and smell like one?”

Dean grinned. “I evolved,” he said sassily, and the demon pulled his hand out of his chest finally.

“I’ll kill you,” said the demon angrily and bared his wolf teeth.

 _Sam!_ Dean called in his mind, when suddenly a shot echoed in the room. The demon thief glowed and fell on the floor, dead.

There was nothing supporting Dean’s weight anymore. He sunk on his knees, trying to fight the faintness. The last thing he saw was his Sam aiming the Colt at the demons, looking pissed and shouting, “Who wants to follow him?”. Then, there was darkness.

He woke up in the backseat of the Impala. His body still hurt, but it wasn’t so bad anymore. His vision was still foggy, but he could see someone sitting in the driver’s seat. The engine was purring and the car was moving.

“Sammy?” he asked and rubbed his eyes.

“He’s awake,” a woman’s voice said from the passenger seat. He hadn’t noticed there was sitting someone, too.

“Sam?” Dean’s radar was slowly starting to work again and it was telling him Sam wasn’t in the Impala. So where the hell was he and who…?

“Calm down, Dean. We’ll stop in a while.” He recognized Ellen’s voice coming from behind the wheel. It meant it was Jo sitting next to her and that Dean was safe.

But Sam wasn’t.

Things were slowly getting back to him and he remembered what happened in the Roadhouse. With effort he sat up and glanced from the window.

“The bastards took him,” he growled, trying to concentrate on his brother’s location and condition. They must have been far, because Dean could only feel the missing presence. He was afraid he would puke in a while, suffering from the well-known distance sickness, if they continue in the journey.

“Stop the car,” he ordered Ellen.

“We’ll be in a camp in a while,” she objected. “We’ll stop there.”

“No, Ellen. Stop it NOW.”

He didn’t know if it was the threat in his voice or he was just that persuasive, because she didn’t say anything anymore and pulled the car on the side of the road. Dean got out from the Impala, taking the first proper breath… and threw up for real.

“Shit,” he cursed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Are you okay?” Jo asked him gently, putting her hand on his shoulder soothingly.

“No,” he said curtly, frowning. “We’re going AWAY from Sam, not toward him. I’m sick,” he explained.

“I’m sorry, boy,” Ellen said in her usual strict voice. “But the general idea was to take you away from the Roadhouse. Or from what’s left of it, anyway.”

Dean looked at her, holding her gaze. “What?” he asked, not understanding.

“The Roadhouse was razed to the ground,” Jo spoke. “Many good people died there. Ash died.”

Dean turned his attention to her. “I… didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

She only nodded her acknowledgement to his words.

Dean didn’t know what to say anymore. He felt awful. And he understood one thing: what had happened, it had been because of him and his brother. The demons had been looking for them, specifically for Sam since he had been the only Protector in the house.

Which meant Sam was in danger of losing his essence now.

“I need to find Sam as fast as possible,” he said, his voice not allowing any objection.

“Dean! Do you realize what happened?” Jo cried, annoyed.

“I do, Jo,” he said levelly. “That’s why I need to find Sam. Only with him I can stop this madness and avenge Ash and the others. But I need to save him now. He’s in danger. Where’s the Colt?”

Jo and Ellen exchanged a confused look. “What?”

“The Colt. The…” Dean could see they didn’t understand. “Haven’t you seen it? Sam had it in the Roadhouse when he came to rescue me…”

Both women shook their heads.

“Never seen it,” Ellen said. “It may still be buried in the debris.”

Dean thought about it for a while. A strong headache was already troubling him, making the thinking harder. “No, I don’t think it’s still there. If they took Sam, they took the Colt with him. But having a look at the Roadhouse wouldn’t hurt. It can set me in the right direction of finding him.”

“Us. Not you. We are with you,” Ellen protested.

“No. I should do this alone.”

“You’ll need a backup.”

Dean turned to her abruptly. “You can accompany me as far as the Roadhouse, but not further. I don’t want to be responsible for your life and death. There’s already too much blood on my hands.”

“We’ll talk about it later. Get in the car,” Ellen said and went to the door on the driver’s side of the Impala.

“I’m driving,” Dean protested.

“Not in your condition,” she told him strictly and got behind the wheel again.

Dean occupied the backseat, now obedient, but later he would insist on Ellen and Jo going their own way. He refused to take them where they could die so easily.

On their way back to the ruins of the Roadhouse, Dean tried to attune to Sam’s location. It wasn’t easy. He was impressed how Sam could do that without a blink of an eye, but Sam had trained that ability for _years_. Dean had trained it only occasionally and now he could feel the lack of the proper training the more painfully. However, he was not going to give up, of course. It was Sam, for crying out loud, Dean’s responsibility – not only because he was his older brother and Warrior, but because he was his Protector as well.

He could feel they were getting closer, but he also knew that Sam was still too far from him.

Coming back to the debris of the Roadhouse was definitely the best start. They didn’t find much – to be honest, they didn’t find anything, but Dean had felt much better by the time they got there and when he concentrated really hard, he could feel some odd restlessness driving him further.

“Gimme the keys,” he ordered Ellen as he was looking down the road leading away from what was left of the Roadhouse.

“You sure you’re fit enough to drive again?” she asked him with suspicion in her voice.

“Absolutely,” he said resolutely, taking the keys from her.

He got into the car again, finally clear about what direction he should take. Suddenly the door on the passenger’s side of the Impala opened and Ellen slid into the car while Jo occupied the backseat.

“Wait,” Dean frowned at them. “I didn’t say you could come with me.”

“You didn’t say we couldn’t,” Ellen said coolly.

“I actually did.”

“Then you said we’d talk about it, we didn’t. We took it as yes. Right, Jo?”

“Right, Mom.”

Dean made a face, but didn’t say anything. Each minute he spent bickering only prolonged the time without his brother. Dean started the car and pulled it on the road.

He had thought it would be easier to follow the feeling, but his inner GPS didn’t work perfectly. Many times he didn’t know which turn to take and only the signs of the distance sickness warned him he was heading in a wrong direction.

“The inner compass broken?” Ellen asked as they needed to return several miles again.

“Shut up. I’m not as good as Sam at this. I’m doing my best.”

“Sure, I can see that,” she said sarcastically.

Dean stepped on the break and stared into the darkness in front of them. How the hell did Sam do that? How was he able to always find him without a mistake? Dean closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling of his brother, ON his brother. On the direction from where he could feel him.

“We’re on the right way this time,” he said at last and started the Impala again.

“I hope so,” Ellen said impatiently while Jo fidgeted on the backseat. Sam was her friend; she wanted to help him the best she could as well.

With difficulties and a lot of effort Dean was finally able to tap on that power of locating his counterpart without being misled. After a few silent hours of the night ride he finally managed to find an old, half-ruined mansion. He knew he was in the right place not only because the sickness was gone and the feeling of Sam was suddenly overwhelming, but also he could see demons, both thieves and regulars, patrolling outside.

Dean parked the car in a safe distance and went right for the trunk with Ellen and Jo following him. They armed themselves with shotguns loaded with shells filled with rock salt, holly water and rosaries – just in case.

Dean went first. His task was to catch the attention of the demons while Ellen and Jo were to find another way and get inside unnoticed. Dean was sure the demons were waiting for him, they knew he was coming for Sam. They wanted him there, otherwise they would have killed Sam long ago.

The funny thing was they let him pass without trying to pick a fight. That could mean only one thing: they needed him alive. For what purpose Dean didn’t know and wasn’t even sure he wanted to. He was walking into the depth of the ruins, passing by the bare, stone walls, his inner radar leading him unerringly to the basement. Sam was there, there was no doubt about it.

Demons were getting out of his way as though they _wanted_ him to find Sam. Their behavior didn’t make sense, and Dean anticipated something dark and dangerous behind all of that. It was too easy, therefore he knew it was a trap and he was waltzing right into it. He didn’t care though, as long as he was getting Sam back.

He was walking further and this time he met no one. The feeling of his brother was getting stronger with each step he took and he knew he was close. Maybe right behind this corner…

A spacious area opened in front of him, most likely a cellar, and there, in the center of it, Sam was sitting in a chair, chained to it with his hands behind his back. He couldn’t shift, his dog joints wouldn’t have withstood the pressure: the tendons would have torn and bones would have broken. His mouth was gagged and he was staring in front of him, his eyes looking for Dean about whom he knew was there.

“Sammy!” Dean called and hurried toward his brother.

Sam’s eyes widened and he wanted to say something, but couldn’t for the obvious reason.

“Sorry it took me so long,” Dean said as he ungagged Sam.

“Dean, it’s a trap!” Sam said quickly when he could talk at last.

“I know. But I had to come…”

“And I was counting on it,” a cold voice sounded from behind Dean’s back. “Howdy, Dean.

Dean turned around immediately, facing their archenemy. The Yellow-Eyed Demon was grinning at him. He wasn’t alone, the demons from the outside were there with him.

“You friggin’ son of a bitch,” Dean cursed and lifted his shotgun. The Yellow-Eyed Demon only waved his hand, amused, and the shotgun flew out of Dean’s hands. He stood between the Hell’s bitches and Sam, unarmed but determined to fight until his last breath. This had to end.

“You know, Dean… I really admire your courage,” said the demon. “But, unfortunately for you and for all the Warriors that I had the pleasure to cross the path with, it brings you nothing but despair and death.”

Dean gave the demon a crooked smile. “Yeah, I noticed that your path is paved with dead bodies and craziness. So what are you going to do to us? Kill us? Steal Sam’s essence and make another of your minions a twisted shapeshifting puppet of yours?” If they were about to die, Dean wanted to know why at least. But demons… Did they ever need a reason? Anyway, this was something BIG, going on for YEARS, so there MUST have been a catch. “Why?” he asked simply and he was sure the demon would understand.

The Yellow-Eyed Demon smirked. “Can’t you tell? Come on, Dean, you’re a smart fella.”

“The only reason I can think about is that you sick bastard want to wipe the Pairs off of the Earth’s surface,” Dean said hatefully.

“See? You can use your brain just fine,” the Demon mocked.

“Yeah, but why? So that you sons of bitches could organize huge orgies and wank over the bodies of the Gifted? That’s what you want? To make the Earth your private dance floor?” This time it was Sam who spoke. He was angry, glaring at the demon with his dog teeth bared and a quite growl escaped his mouth.

The Yellow-Eyed Demon chuckled. Dean hated that sound, it gave him the creeps.

“Something like that,” the demon said. “And to prepare the Earth for His coming.”

“Whose coming?” Sam and Dean asked in unison.

“Of the Prince of Hell, Lucifer.”

Dean frowned while Sam looked perplexed.

“What? He’s real? I thought he’s just a story told to little demons in Sunday school,” Dean said.

The Yellow-Eyed Demon got serious. “You’ll stop laughing soon,” he said. “You Warriors are the only thing that can prevent us from enabling his coming. You keep balance in the world between good and evil, you keep the gates of Heaven and Hell safely closed. Your sole presence is enough. The day when the last Warrior falls in battle will be the day when I’ll be able to open the Gates of Hell.”

“Fine, but why not to simply kill them? Why to attack their Protectors?” Dean asked, curious.

This time the demon smiled evilly. “Firstly, because it’s fun. Secondly, Protectors, who should be Warriors’ strongest spot, are, in fact, the weakest one. And thirdly, the essence of Protectors is the purest energy of Mother Nature, which is able to resist any supernatural power. Protectors are neither good, nor evil. But with the _right_ treatment, their essences help demons get rid of their weaknesses, make then resistant to salt, iron or holy water, or even the Devil’s Trap. They help them to sharpen their senses even more. They make them invincible.”

“Except they are vulnerable to a pure Protector power,” Sam remarked.

“Exactly. It’s the matter of the essence. You Protectors can recognize each other, you can _see_ the other’s essence and you can destroy it as easily. You are not immortal, but you are extremely powerful. And the way to Warriors almost always leads through you.”

Dean raised a corner of his mouth. “If the essences are so powerful, how come your minions who possess them are just as twisted as your ego?”

The Yellow-Eyed Demon sniggered. “You’re trying to be funny. That’s really adorable.”

“Yeah, they say I’m cute,” Dean retorted.

“The problem with obtaining the essences…”

“You mean stealing.”

The demon smirked again. “The problem is,” he continued, “that an essence is an important part of a Protector’s body. You can rip it out while still in a full use and risk damage, which happened in 99.9 percent of all cases, or you can prepare the essence for the harvest.”

Dean stared. “What?”

Sam seemed to understand a tad better than his brother. “No,” he said nervously and Dean could recognize fear at the edge of his voice.

The demon grinned broadly at him. “Oh, yes.”

“No!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean asked. He was angry and he already hated this game.

“About cutting your Protector off,” said the demon.

Dean winced. He heard Sam behind him fidgeting in the chair and clinking with the cuffs. His fear was filling the air.

He smirked at the demon. “Never gonna happen,” he said resolutely and hoped that Sam would calm down. They had settled this once. Dean was NEVER going to cut Sam off. Why would he? He loved Sam and he respected him for who he was. He would never have hurt him. He loved their bond and the fact that Sam was completely his. He loved that feeling of possessing his soul. No, he was never going to cut him off.

“No?” The demon didn’t even look surprised. He only laughed as though he thought Dean’s words were the best joke in the world. “Let’s talk about you two,” he said in the end, obviously amused. “I could kill you, Dean, without a blink of an eye. But it wouldn’t help me much. Sam’s essence would become inactive and therefore useless to me. That’s why I need you.”

“That’s nice you need me alive,” Dean said, carefully looking around at the circle of demons getting smaller. “There’s just one thing that doesn’t make sense to me. Why so much trouble if you obviously didn’t have a problem to simply rip it out of poor Protectors?”

“Not each of them. Only out of those who didn’t want to give them freely,” said the Yellow-Eyed Demon cheerfully. “You would be surprised how many Warriors gave up when they saw their Protectors in agony.”

“What?” Dean’s eyes widened and his gaze flew to Sam, who wriggled in the chair again.

“Come on, Dean,” said the demon mockingly again. “You didn’t think tearing an essence from a Protector’s body is a painless process, did you?”

Dean made a step backwards toward Sam’s chair. He was ready to protect his brother with his body.

“Do you know why the two of you are special?” asked the Yellow-Eyed Demon with a knowing smirk. “You’re the last Nature’s attempt to reverse the inevitable. As siblings you had more time to work on your bond, make it stronger and work more methodically on developing your abilities. Also, you are stronger than any Warrior and Protector in the world. I can say you are soaked with power. Sam is. With the power I want and need in order to finish my task.”

Dean backed even more, throwing a glance at his shotgun lying out of the circle of demons. He considered the idea to reach for the bottle with holy water he had hidden in the inner pocket of his jacket, but he knew it would have worked only on the regular demons, not the thieves.

“You won’t lay your dirty hands on him,” he snarled at the Yellow-Eyed Demon.

“Says who?” the demon sniggered and beckoned to his minions to seize the young hunter.

“We do,” a clear woman’s voice sounded and when the demons turned around, through the gap between their meatsuits Dean could see Ellen standing there and aiming her shotgun at them.

“I see, you brought a friend,” the demon said, amused.

Dean only groaned inwardly. What did Ellen think? That she could defeat all the demons just by herself? And where the hell was Jo?

“Let them go,” Ellen ordered, but the demons only laughed at her. She shot the first one in the face, which made him only angry and he attacked. Dean used the moment of surprise, pulled out his bottle with holly water and kept the regulars away from his body. Bad thing there were also the thieves of the essences…

“Dean, watch out!” Sam’s voice warned Dean from an attack from behind his back. He managed to avoid the fist aiming for his temple and in the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a blonde mane. Jo neared Sam’s chair while Dean and Ellen were fighting and occupying the demons’ attention.

It was a good plan. Not perfect, more like desperate, but good. If Jo had managed to free Sam, who was the only one who could defeat the thieves, they could fight their way out. If only luck had been on their side…

“What do you think you’re doing, stupid girl?” The Yellow-Eyed Demon grabbed Jo by her neck and lifted her in the air. A lock pick fell out from her hand as she tried to free herself and squirmed, but it was a futile effort.

“Look at you,” said the demon, good mood returning into his voice. “The last Warrior. I’m sorry for your Protector, I assume he or she is kind of… dead.” He laughed and put her down. One of the demon thieves grabbed her and held her together with her mother and Dean, who lost the fight. Sam was growling, baring is teeth, but, as chained to a chair as he was, he was no threat to the demons.

The Yellow-Eyed Demon stepped closer to Jo and grinned right into her face.

“Leave her alone!” Ellen yelled at him, but he paid no attention to her.

“I could kill you now, little Warrior princess,” the Yellow-Eyed Demon said to Jo. “But I won’t do it. You were the last born, you’ll be the last killed. When the time comes, I’ll find you. There’s no place in the world where you can hide. And now…” He turned away from Jo and looked at Sam, who would have bitten the demon’s head off if only the bastard had come closer, “now is the time for the high point of this evening.”

Sam straightened up in his chair and snarled. “You won’t get my essence. I’d rather die than let you steal it,” he snapped angrily, then his gaze wandered to Dean, who could feel Sam’s determination.

“We’ll see about that,” the demon said smugly, following the line of Sam’s attention . “You’re young, strong, powerful… and stubborn. You both are, I’ll give you that. But,” the Yellow-Eyed Demon made a dramatic pause, “I know your weakness,” he said at last and looked from one Winchester to the other. “It’s your love for each other,” he said theatrically and pulled away from Sam with a snigger. “How long will it take until you bend under my will?” he said malevolently.

“Bite me,” Sam barked and glanced at Dean warningly. He was ready to resist whatever torture the demon had prepared for him and he trusted Dean he would do the same.

The Yellow-Eyed Demon grinned. “Be careful what you wish for. I might, you know.”

A dark growl left Sam’s mouth as he bared his sharp dog fangs again, his dog ears were plastered to his skull. He was trying to look scary, but tied to the chair, he could hardly scare the demon, who laughed, amused.

“Adorable,” he said, bending to Sam again until he was staring right into Sam’s face from a minimum distance. “Now let’s try it my way,” he said and whispered something, and before anyone could realize what was happening, Sam’s painful, ear-splitting howl filled the space around and flew far away over the land.  

Dean’s breath hitched in his lungs – not because he got startled by the inhuman sound his brother gave, but because of the stabbing coldness that captured his heart. He fell on his knees and he could hardly think or breathe, but despite the dizziness that took over him, he was aware of one thing: Sam was in agony.

“Stop it!” he cried, his voice as gruff as sandpaper. “Please, stop! You’re hurting him!”

His vision was blurred, and he still could see clearly the hand dipped in Sam’s chest, clenching his poor, tormented essence. Sam was pale and his eyes were wide open, staring in the demon’s face, surprised and panicked.

The Yellow-Eyed Demon turned to Dean with a mocking grin, his hand was still buried in Sam’s chest. Sam looked like all oxygen had already left his lungs, but he wasn’t trying to take a new breath. He wasn’t fighting. And when Dean reached out to him through their mental link, he found a cotton barrier that prevented him from getting to Sam’s thoughts. As thought there were none…

“Sammy…” he addressed his brother, and when Sam reacted and lifted his head slightly, there was nothing but terrible pain in his eyes.

“You know what this means, Dean, don’t you?” the demon asked mischievously and made a slight move as though he was going to rip the essence out of Sam’s body. Sam groaned and the look of his eyes was turning crazy.

Dean was watching that terrible performance. “What do you want?” he asked

“You know what,” the demon said. “And I’m getting it either the easy way or the hard way. I don’t care if he dies, Dean. I don’t care if you die. As long as I get the essence, I don’t care about anything. It’s you who have the choice. You can let Sam suffer and eventually die, or you can make that little, insignificant cut and save his life. The moment you do it, you stop being a Warrior and he your Protector and I have no interest in you two anymore.”

Sam whined quietly and his wide eyes found Dean. He shook his head vigorously. “No,” he breathed out. “Don’t.”

The Yellow-Eyed Demon smirked. He jerked his hand that clenched the essence, making Sam gasp and whine.

“It’s your call, Dean,” said the demon. “Is it the easy way? Or the hard way?” He pulled his hand out, making the thin tendrils of the essence winding through Sam’s body glow and stretch to their limits.

The howl that followed was even more terrible than the first one. Dean didn’t remember hearing anything like that, so full of agony, despair and broken promises. Maybe it was just him who heard the last one, but he knew what he was going to do. He couldn’t let Sam die. Not now. Not like this.

“F-fine,” Dean stumbled over the one simple word.

The demon turned to him with a triumphant grin. “What? I didn’t hear properly,” he teased, but this time Dean stayed quiet, trying to jerk his arm out of the grip of the demon that was holding him, but to no avail.

The Yellow-Eyed Demon pulled the essence again and Dean could hear its thinnest string to snap. Sam shrieked and started squirming, cold sweat was rolling down his temples. Every muscle in his body was tense and his hands were fisted.

“Stop! Stop it, fuck dammit, FINE!” Dean yelled and felt the heaviness of his words subsequently.

All the eyes around fixed on him, even Sam’s. Dean’s brother was gasping for air and staring at Dean with wide, frightened eyes. “No,” he breathed out, but even that cost him a lot of energy.

“Excuse me?” the demon mocked. “Did you say something?”

“I said _fine_ , I’ll do it,” Dean growled.

“I finally hear something reasonable from you,” said the demon, letting go of Sam’s essence and pulling the hand out of his chest.

Dean glanced at Ellen and Jo, who were staring at him with the same shocked and horrified expression as Sam.

“Dean, you can’t be serious. You can’t let him have Sam’s essence,” Ellen hissed at him.

“Neither can I let him kill Sam,” Dean hissed back. “Unless you have a plan.” He looked at her expectantly, but she averted her gaze. Even Jo was staring at the floor and didn’t have courage to look at either Sam or Dean.

“Well?” the Yellow-Eyed Demon asked impatiently. Dean glared at him, but said nothing. His attention now belonged to Sam

“Sammy,” he addressed his brother in a soft voice.

Sam shook his head and closed his eyes tightly. “No,” he said weakly. “No, please, don’t…”

“Sammy, look at me,” Dean tried, his voice breaking. Sam’s unwillingness to even look at him was killing him. “Please, Sammy.”

Sam shook his head vigorously. “No.”

“Sammy!”

It was a command. The last command of a Warrior to his Protector. Sam winced and turned to Dean slowly, eyes still shut, but then he opened them and locked his gaze with Dean’s. Dean could read reproach in Sam’s eyes, disappointment, accusation, and the deepest fear.

“Don’t do it, Dean, I beg you,” Sam pleaded.

“Sammy, I can’t let you die,” Dean said softly. “I WON’T. I’m your Protector, remember?”

But Sam didn’t listen to him. He was begging, pleading, trying to persuade Dean not to cut him off… and crying.

Dean couldn’t hold back tears himself. He tried to get himself free from the hands of the demon that was holding him, but the son of a bitch was gripping him securely. The look of Sam’s eyes was burning a hole into his insides and Dean was enduring it bravely. It was his fault after all, his mistake. Now he realized what Dad had been protecting them from his whole life and that they hadn’t made it easy for him. Poor old man. He had sacrificed his life to find the Yellow-Eyed Demon and vanquish him before he could get to Sammy. When he died, it was Dean’s task to protect his little brother. And he failed. All he could do now was save Sam’s bare life… but at what cost?

“Sammy, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “

Sam shook his head again and he pulled against the cuffs, but unable to break them. “No… Please, Dean, no…”

“I’m sorry…”

Dean lowered his head, breaking the eye contact. He couldn’t lose Sam. He couldn’t let him die here this horrible death. Sam was his only family, his lover and best friend, he was Dean’s everything. Without him Dean was no one. The demon was going to get Sam’s essence one way or another anyway, so Dean only chose the lesser evil.

“I’m _so_ sorry, Sammy…” he apologized again, his voice empty.

“Please, Dean, no, please, please, Dean, no, please, no…”

“… but I don’t want you to be my Protector anymore.”

If had Dean expected the world to shake in its foundations and collapse, he was surprised. Except the dead silence surrounding them, there was nothing. No change to see on the outside at least. On the inside, Dean felt like a big part of him had just died. He felt strangely empty and lonely, but there was no pain, no raging emotions, no angry atmosphere… only numbing nothingness.

Dean’s eyes were still locked with Sam’s. Sam was sitting there in his chair, absolutely motionless, and the only thing that indicated that something about him changed was the always present light in his eyes, the spark only Dean could recognized – it was slowly fading now until it was there no more.

It was done. They became strangers. The cut was swift and clear and there was nothing left of their bond anymore.

Slowly, Sam turned away from Dean, and that small gesture was more painful than anything Dean knew. He refused to accept that he had lost Sam completely. Sam was still alive and they could fix this somehow. They must…

It was the voice of the Yellow-Eyed Demon that brought Dean back to reality and made him realize it wasn’t over. The demon pronounced an incantation in a strong, clear voice, and sank his hand into Sam’s chest once again. Dean’s brother gritted his teeth and a shiver ran through his body. His muscles were tense, his hands fisted.

The demon started pulling his hand out slowly, a content, malevolent smile curling his lips. It was a process during which Sam was trying hard to endure the torture of losing the part of who he was. Eventually, the demon pulled his hand out completely, gripping a big, glowing orb in it – Sam’s essence.

Sam stared at it, wide-eyed, and gasped for air. He wanted to scream, but his throat was dry and dizziness was winding its way through his consciousness. He felt unnaturally numb, his vision was blurred.

“He’s falling into shock,” he could hear the demon’s voice, but he didn’t know what it meant. His body felt like jelly and coldness was filling his veins.

“Sammy!” It was Dean’s voice, but Sam wasn’t sure if he was happy to hear it or not. He wasn’t sure about anything anymore. And most of all, he wasn’t sure about Dean…    

“Sammy…” he could feel Dean’s hands on his face and see Dean’s contours through the mist in front of his eyes. The demons must have released him. “Fuck, you’re cold. Hang on, Sammy.”

“Do you know what’s saddest about this whole thing? That you two were supposed to save the future of the new generation of Warriors and Protectors. Au revoir, boys.” Sam could hear the cold laughter of the Yellow-Eyed Demon fading gradually in distance.

“Sammy. Sammy. Do you hear me?” Dean sounded anxious, Sam didn’t understand why. What did he care now?

“Jo, how does it look like?” he could hear Dean’s voice again.

“Almost there, wait.”

Something clicked and Sam’s hands were loose. They hang limply along his body and Sam made no attempt to move at all. He shivered with cold.

“Sammy. Sammy, can you hear me?” he heard Dean, but didn’t reply.

“Dammit,” Dean cursed. “Help me.”

Two pairs of hands supported him and lifted from the chair. Sam walked like a zombie kid, his legs were hardly listening to him, as though there was barely any connection between them and his will.

“Everything’s fine. No demons within view,” Jo’s voice sounded from the front.

“Let’s go,” Dean said, and Sam could feel the changing surface of the floor under his feet. His eyes registered only darkness around and from time to time some movement in front of him. He judged it was Jo, checking the way out of the ruins.

There was silence and peace everywhere, no trace of the demons, so the group made it to the Impala without any problem. Sam felt like a rag doll as they literally dragged him the whole way as his feet were like cotton and his knees gave way by every step he made.

Finally, he was sitting in the car safely. Dean’s hands were on him again, covering him with a blanket they had in the trunk. When he finished, there was a soft voice talking to him:

“Come here, Sam,” Jo spoke gently and he could feel a slight tug. The next thing he remembered was his head in her lap, her small hand stroking his hair and her soothing voice.

Sam liked Jo. She was his friend despite all the times when he had been a dick to her. She was kind… and she cared. He lifted his hand and reached out to her face. Jo took it and put it back, but she didn’t pull her hand away. She held Sam’s hand in his, still talking to him in that low, calm voice.

“How is he?” Dean asked, and Sam realized how strange his voice sounded to his ears suddenly. Not the way he remembered it.

“Still dizzy.”

“Don’t let him fall asleep.”

Jo stroked his face and talked to him again, and Sam listened to her. Words didn’t matter, it was the gentle tone that calmed him down.

They stopped a few times. Jo made him raise his head and drink a little while Dean checked the blanket and tugged Sam in it properly. Sam didn’t know how to feel about his care, didn’t know how to feel about Dean in general, and every time Dean was there checking on him, a new wave of panic was rising in Sam and he was clinging to Jo desperately until Dean was back in his seat and he could hear Jo’s soothing voice again.

He didn’t know how long their journey took, but when the car finally stopped and Jo helped him out of it, adjusting the blanket around him, he knew where they were thanks to Pamela’s and Bobby’s voices that reached his ears. Ears that lost so much of their sharpness…

At least he could already see more clearly.

He saw Dean’s worried expression as his brother moved to him. Sam backed a little and almost fell over as his feet still didn’t listen to him.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Sam, I got you,” Jo said to him, supporting his weight until Dean was there to take Sam from her. Sam’s throat tightened and he looked at Jo nervously as she let go of him, but then there was someone else on whom Sam leaned willingly.

Bobby put an arm around him. “What the hell happened to you boys?” he asked as he was helping Dean to get Sam into the house.

“Sam!” It was Pamela. Sam felt relief as he saw her stand there. He needed her right now. But her face was contorted with horror and she put a hand over her mouth as though she was going to puke. Her attention turned to Dean. “What have you done?” she breathed out.

Sam realized what she saw – a despicable creature – because that was how Sam used to see those who had been cut off. He was like them. A lost existence without purpose.

“I saved his life,” Dean snapped and he and Bobby got Sam into the house. Pamela saved her reproaches until Sam was sitting in a couch in Bobby’s living room and she brought him a glass of water which she forced him to drink. She gazed at Sam for a long time until she turned to Dean.

“How could you allow this?” she hissed.

“I couldn’t let him die.”

“Rather death than this. Look at him!”

Dean looked at Sam, at the miserable bundle under the blanket. It was a terrible sight, but Sam was alive and with him, so how could this be worse than death?

“He’s alive,” he repeated what he had said to himself over a million times by now until they got here.

 _“Alive!?”_ Pamela almost shrieked. “Do you even realize what you’ve done? You took the most essential part of him!”

“He didn’t,” said Jo who joined the company in the living room together with her mother. “It was the Yellow-Eyed motherfucker.”

“And you let him so willingly have it!” she spat.

“That’s enough, Pamela,” Bobby stopped her. “Sam needs rest. Can you get him to bed, please?”

She glared at him, her eyes blazing, but she didn’t throw accusations anymore. Her attention turned to Sam, who was staring into nothing. Huddled in the blanket, he looked like a pile of misery. Pamela came to him and put her arm around him without a word. Her look was still hard and somewhat contemptuous. Dean didn’t like it, but he remembered how Sam, when he still had had his essence, had been looking down at those who had lost it. He wanted to help Pamela to get his brother upstairs, but they both gave him such a weird, blood-freezing gaze that he gave up on that idea immediately. It was Jo who helped Pamela to get Sam to bed in the end.

“She’s quite a hot head,” Ellen commented as Pamela was out of the earshot.

“She’s just proud of what she is… or was once,” Bobby said calmly.

“Was!” Ellen looked at him, surprised and outraged. “Then she has no right…”

“She honors old values,” Bobby interrupted and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. “Anyone?” he asked.

Meanwhile upstairs Pamela and Jo got Sam in bed. He went willingly, letting himself to be pulled and pushed and manhandled as they needed. Eventually, he could lay down and close his eyes, cutting the world around him from his perception. He still could feel Jo’s gentle hands as she pulled the covers over his limp body or her fingers on his face as she caressed him and removed the hair from his face. Then she touched lightly his shoulder and pulled away.

“Rest,” she whispered, and subsequently Sam could hear the soft sound of her footsteps gradually fading in the corridor.

The room stayed silent, but Sam knew he wasn’t alone just yet. Pamela was still there, watching him from distance as though she was fighting her disgust. Sam opened his eyes and looked at her, trying to read in her face, but there was nothing for him. Suddenly, they were so strange to each other that Sam was surprised it was even possible. Pamela had taken care of him when he was little, taught him everything a Protector needed to know, guided him his own life. And now she was looking at him as though she didn’t even know him. Truth to be told, Sam didn’t know himself, either. He became a stranger in his own body. Who was he? Who had he become? He was neither a Protector anymore nor a human. He was something shameful, perverted… a failure.

“That’s what you get when you don’t follow the codex,” Pamela spoke finally in a dull voice. “You crossed the line and got too far. This is your punishment.”

Chill ran up Sam’s spine. He shivered and pulled the covers tighter around his body. “I know,” he said, his voice breaking.

Pamela looked like she wanted to say more, but then she changed her mind and walked out from the room. A half-hour later Bobby caught her downstairs leaving the house with a packed bag.

“Where are you going?” he asked her unbelievingly.

“Leaving. I have nothing to do here anymore.”

“What the hell do you mean? Sam _needs_ you! Now more than ever.”

“No. Sam doesn’t need me. He stopped needing me when he was cut off,” she snarled angrily.

Bobby winced and an angry frown darkened his face. “What crawled up your ass and died there? You’ve always been fond of the boy…”

“Not of this one, no. He’s not the boy I used to know anymore. I don’t know who he is now. I doubt he knows that himself. I doubt Dean knows that, either…” Her eyes met Dean’s and the boy cringed under the heaviness of her gaze. “I don’t want anything to do with such a disgrace,” she hissed and then stormed out from the house.

No one followed her. Dean was standing there in the center of Bobby’s living room, shocked and unpleasantly surprised, Jo and Ellen looked at each other and Bobby could read easily in their faces what they thought _(What a bitch!)._ He sighed and sat down at his large desk and poured himself a generous amount of whiskey. If he wanted to be honest, he had half expected such a reaction. Freaking Protectors couldn’t get over that deep-rooted idea that cutting off meant a punishment for the incapable Protectors, who deserved only disrespect.

“What did she mean that Sam’s not the one who he was?” Dean asked suddenly, interrupting the way of Bobby’s thoughts.

“Sam lost the part that made him himself,” he explained simply and turned to the ladies. “More whiskey?”

While Bobby and the two huntresses were successfully working on getting drunk, Dean left the living room and climbed up the stairs. As he stood at the door to Sam’s room, he hesitated for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and entered the room.

Sam was standing by the window and looking out at the yard. He didn’t move at all when Dean came in.

“Sammy,” Dean addressed him gently, but Sam didn’t turn to him, he didn’t acknowledge Dean’s presence whatsoever.

Dean closed the door and walked deeper into the room. The fact he couldn’t feel Sam’s emotions, couldn’t feel his presence under his own skin, was confusing. It wasn’t only Sam who had lost part of himself.

“Sammy, please, talk to me,” he pleaded.

Sam fisted his hands and shook his head – the first indication he was aware that Dean was there.

“Look at me at least,” Dean begged again and reduced the distance between them.

Sam turned around finally and lifted his gaze to meet Dean’s. His eyes were painfully empty, reflecting no emotion. They were looking at Dean as though he were a stranger who didn’t matter at all.

That hurt.

But maybe it hurt less than losing one’s essence…

Maybe there was a way to communicate this tragedy and find the way back to each other.

Dean came up to Sam and took his face in his hands. Sam didn’t react, letting Dean do whatever he wanted. Dean brought their faces close and delivered a small gentle kiss on Sam’s lips. Sam didn’t respond, but he didn’t pull away either. That encouraged Dean and he deepened the kiss.

He knew perfectly well what he was doing. His fingers tangled in Sam’s hair as he devoured his mouth and pulled him carefully to the bed. Sex between them had never been only about physical pleasure. It had been more than that. It had been a tool of mutual communication, a cure for distress, a way to strengthen their bond. Sex had enabled them to open their thirteenth chamber and let the other one in. The feelings they had felt while making love had belonged to both of them. There had been no line between them, they had been truly and absolutely one and only organism.

Dean wanted it back now. He wanted to feel that unity again in order to remind both Sam and himself that they were still together. That whatever had happened, they hadn’t lost each other. In Dean’s eyes that was what counted.

He reversed their positions so that Sam was closer to the bed and he made him sit down. Sam went obediently, but he still was as responsive as a rag doll. Dean made him part his legs and knelt in the V formed by them. He pulled Sam’s face to his once again and kissed him hungrily one more time.

“Do you remember how we used to make love?” he asked after a while, holding Sam’s face securely in his hands, not allowing his brother to pull away, even though Sam hadn’t even indicated he would have wanted that. “Do you remember how we did it for the first time? Do you remember what happened?” he continued. “We can do it, Sam. We can fix this.”

Sam’s big eyes met Dean’s, watching him carefully as though he wanted to make sure Dean wasn’t kidding. “Okay,” he said quietly after a while and that was everything Dean needed to hear. He smiled and kissed Sam gently, then he sprang on his feet.

“Wait here. I’ll bring lube,” Dean said and hurried out from the room. He ran down the stairs and out from the house. He was by the Impala in no time, opening the trunk impatiently and rummaging through his duffel in the next second. He found a half-empty bottle and hoped it would be enough.

He hurried back into the house. He met Bobby in the hall, whom he graced with a smile, and continued upstairs.

He found Sam sitting on the bed exactly as he left him. He came up to him and sank on his knees in front of him once again. He put the lube next to his brother and then buried his fingers in Sam’s hair, pulling him closer for a sweet kiss.

Slowly, he turned the kisses into more sensual ones, needier and hungrier and more passionate. He was looking for familiarity in them and when, after a long time, Sam finally responded, Dean knew he won.

Sam grabbed him and pulled closer. He kissed Dean with the same passion and need, sometimes biting his lower lip painfully, but Dean let him, feeling the desperation that had been possessing them ever since Sam’s loss of his essence.

Sam wasn’t gentle at all. He tore the shirt off Dean’s shoulders fiercely, then tangled his fingers in Dean’s undershirt and literally ripping it off of his body with a quiet growl. The fabric gave in to the violent force with a soft cry, revealing Dean’s naked chest. Dean didn’t want to owe Sam anything, but his wild brother shoved him on the bed unceremoniously. Then he went right for his pants, undoing the button and the zipper and pulling them off together with Dean’s boxers.

He settled between Dean’s legs with almost rude insistence, making him spread them even wider. He thrust against Dean’s body; the rough denim rubbed against Dean’s sensitive crotch. Dean groaned, half-excitedly and half-painfully, but Sam didn’t have it, he thrust again and again, making Dean groan and wriggle under him. Gripping Dean’s wrists, he started kissing his face, not even trying to keep his teeth from the way. They grazed and scratched Dean’s skin, but it was okay. Dean definitely was not going to complain, he understood. Sam was looking for the fangs he was having no more and he was making sure over and over again that no, there was not a bit of a dog inside of him anymore.

Dean’s heart ached when he realized that. _What have I done?_ he asked himself as Sam took his Adam’s apple between his teeth gently and growled quietly.

 _You saved his life,_ the part of him that was convinced he had done the right thing said resolutely. And Dean believed it, because he would have gone mad if he hadn’t.

Sam straightened up between his knees and reached for the lube. He slicked his fingers and pushed two of them inside of Dean none too gently. Dean moaned, gripping the sheets in his hands on each side of his body.

Sam’s fingers slid inside easily. Dean’s body was already used to Sam’s presence, his thick cock and even thicker knot. Compared with them, the fingers were a piece of cake.

Sam pulled his fingers out and added the third digit. Anyway, he didn’t waste much time with preparation. A couple of slides in and out, and Sam exchanged his fingers for his big, hard, swollen cock, which he freed from his pants, but otherwise he didn’t bother with taking his clothes off at all. He bent over Dean and gripped his shoulders, pushing him to the matters, while his cock was filling Dean’s body.

Dean sighed contentedly as Sam settled deep inside of him. He wanted to hug him, but Sam was not having that. He snarled and started thrusting in like a desperate animal. This wasn’t the lovemaking Dean knew. This was a mere fucking, an alpha male curing his frustration by having his way with a willing sub… or more like punishing him. Sam didn’t allow Dean to touch him, to hug him or to talk to him. If Dean tried, he snarled menacingly, dug his teeth in Dean’s skin and his thrusts became more forceful. Dean was confused and he sorely missed his lost ability to feel Sam’s emotions.

Although Sam was obviously satisfying his own desires, he still managed to hit Dean’s prostate and give him the pleasure Dean had already thought he was going to be denied. He moaned loudly and Sam continued shoving his cock up Dean’s ass violently.

Suddenly Sam shuddered and his heat flooded Dean’s insides. Dean sighed with relief, hoping Sam would calm down finally. But then he looked into his brother’s widened eyes and the only thing he could see was panic and fear.

“I can’t knot you!” Sam said in a high-pitched voice, true horror reflecting in his handsome face. He pulled out violently, making Dean under him gasp. He bolted out of the bed and started pacing the room like caged animal and with his junk still out he was repeating over and over again, “I can’t knot you. I can’t knot you. I can’t knot you…”

Dean climbed out of bed, too. It wasn’t that easy, his ass hurt and there was no way he was going to sit for a while. Therefore he rolled on his stomach and crawled out like some disabled idiot. Then he came up to Sam and grabbed his hands to stop him.

“It’s okay, Sam. You’re human now. It’s okay,” he tried to talk to him, but Sam shook his head. For him, it was the greatest disaster.

“I can’t knot you. I can’t knot you…” he was still repeating.

“Sam!” Dean shook with him gently. “It’s okay, man. I’ll teach you to be human. As long as we’re together, it’s fine. We can do it. As long as we love each other. You still love me, Sammy, don’t you?”

If there was something that hadn’t changed, it was definitely Dean’s love for Sam. Sam was still his greatest treasure, the most important person in the world, his other half. It was only natural for him to expect the same thing from Sam.

But Sam’s eyes got even wider as he stared at Dean, dumbstruck. “I don’t know,” he said, looking as surprised as Dean with his statement. “I don’t know,” he repeated and a new cloud of desperation flew over his face. He stepped away from Dean in order to get out of his reach, he quickly pushed his soft cock back into his pants and zipped them and moved toward the door.

“Sam!” Dean called after him, his world crumbling.

Sam turned to him abruptly. “I _don’t_ know, Dean,” he said with emphasis. “I don’t know what I feel, nor who I am. I don’t know if I still love you. I probably don’t,” he finished and walked out of the room.

It was like a cold shower for Dean. He was trying to be understanding and supportive, but right now he was losing any support under his feet he had. He was drowning, feeling that he was falling into the mud of desperation and loneliness that he had been able to keep at bay only because he believed that there had been nothing that had changed between the two of them. But without Sam’s love he was no one.

Sam walked out from the house. He needed to be alone for a while and breathe some fresh air. He needed to think.

He had been honest with Dean, he really didn’t know what he felt. There were so many emotions and he was unable to decode them. They weren’t bound to Sam’s love for Dean anymore. They were one hundred percent him and it was confusing. His very existence had been bound to his Warrior… but Dean wasn’t a Warrior anymore and Sam wasn’t a Protector. He was… human. Just like Dean said. But what it meant Sam had no clue. He felt lost, torn between what he knew and didn’t apply to him anymore and his new existence which wasn’t bound to anyone or anything anymore. Maybe he should feel free, but he only felt like a stranger in his own body. He didn’t know himself and that scared him.

He was unable to look at it otherwise than a punishment. But for what he had been punished, he couldn’t understand.

“Sam? Are you all right?” he heard Bobby’s voice coming from behind his back.

Sam shook his head and turned to the hunter. “I… I think I need some time off…” he stammered, feeling actually ashamed for such thinking. “I need to figure out some things on my own,” he added as though he was trying to justify his decision.

“Wait,” Bobby frowned. “Are you telling me you wanna leave? Now? What about Dean?”

“He needs to figure out the things for himself,” Sam said, casting his look down. He knew he was just running. Running from Dean whose love was suddenly suffocating. “Do you have a car you could lend me?”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Bobby said, his voice gruff and disapproving, but he was not trying to stop Sam when he dug his duffel from the Impala’s trunk.

“Never mind,” Sam said with a sigh. “I can walk.”

“You’re serious about leaving, aren’t you? Sam, you don’t need to do this. You and Dean can figure it out together…”

“No,” Sam said resolutely and turned to the hunter. “Bobby, my whole life was a lie. I was forced to feel something that most likely I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been born a Protector. I don’t know what I feel anymore. I need some distance.”

“Is that what Dean needs, too?” Bobby didn’t give up.

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “And I don’t even care,” he added as he hung the duffel on his shoulder and without looking back he started down to the gate.

Bobby left him alone. Sam’s words were like salt into open wounds, but maybe the boy was right. Maybe he really just needed a couple of days or weeks to come to terms with this new situation. Bobby trusted him he would come back eventually. There was still the Yellow-Eyed son of a bitch on the loose and Bobby doubted Sam wanted to leave the things that way, not talking about getting back his stolen essence.

He went back into the house and continued in the drinking competition with Ellen and Jo. They both looked like their only goal of that shitty day was to get drunk. Bobby felt like that himself. They would get drunk stupid, fall into dreamless sleep, suffer from a terrible headache in the morning and then do what they were best at – prepare for the war.

Bobby was just finishing his second glass when Dean appeared in the living room, showered and dressed in clean clothes. He looked around the room and a puzzled expression settled in his face.

“Where’s Sam?” he asked.

Bobby looked at Dean carefully. “Left,” he said. “He thought some time away would do him good…” And then Bobby realized something. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”

“No,” Dean said blankly and left the room.

No one saw him that evening. Dean left the room that became his only for breakfast the next day, and then returned there again. He looked drunk and Bobby found out that his stocks of whiskey diminished. He wanted to give the boy as much space as he needed, but after a week he had enough. He tried to call Sam, but Sam wasn’t reachable on his phone, no matter how many times he called. He assumed Sam had gotten rid of the phone the first chance he had. So he cornered Dean in the kitchen when the boy came downstairs for his liquid breakfast.

“Where’s whiskey?” Dean asked when he couldn’t find a single bottle. Bobby had removed them from the usual place.

“Gone. Drunk,” he lied.

“What?”

“You heard,” Bobby said coolly.

Dean looked at him with bleary eyes. “Why?” he asked softly. He may have had a hangover, but he wasn’t stupid.

“You know why,” Bobby said and there was a whiff of love a concern in his voice finally.

“Bobby…” Dean addressed him, his voice breaking. “It hurts so fucking much, so please…”

“No,” Bobby said and there was that uncompromising tone again. “Dean, you need to pull yourself together. Sam’s gone and he doesn’t want to be bothered, that’s a fact. I still hope he’ll come back, just like you, but we have work to do and we can’t postpone it just because he’s not here. He made his choice, we need to do ours. You need to set your mind on something else, or it’ll eat you alive.”

Dean’s sad eyes fixed on Bobby. “What do you want me to do?”

“You know what.”

Dean waved his hand. “It’s useless. We don’t have the Colt. It was lost during the attack at the Roadhouse. Most likely the Yellow-Eyed bastard has it in his grasp.”

“Then we need to find another way.”

“There is NOT another way, Bobby! We all are gonna DIE!”

“So what?” Bobby asked angrily. “Do you want to sit here, get drunk every day and die of cirrhosis? That’s the end you wish for? What about the people out there? What about Jo? You heard it yourself, she’s the last one. If she dies, we’re done. There’s no future for our kind. But I’m not ready to give up. Not yet.”

Dean ran a hand over his face. He was so tired. He wished to lie down and sleep and never wake up again. His heart had been shattered into tiny sharp pieces and they were cutting him from the inside, opening new wounds each and every day, and Dean hoped he would finally bleed out. Therefore every day when he opened his eyes he felt a new wave of disappointment that he was still there, still breathing, still aching and longing for Sam, Sam, Sam…

“Fine,” he said in the end. If he was going to die, he could die fighting. What a heroic death it would be…

But Bobby was right. They should find another way and if there was the slightest chance to get his revenge on the Yellow-Eyed son of a bitch, then Dean was in with his whole broken heart.

And so Dean stopped looking for a bottle of whiskey and started looking for the demon’s weaknesses instead. Ellen and Jo helped. It was their fight, too, and if Dean wanted his revenge for his destroyed bond with Sam, then the two women wanted their revenge for the massacre in the Roadhouse.

They spent hours bent over heavy books and ancient scrolls, watching the omens, tracking demons, interrogating them, and, in Dean’s case, waiting for Sam. He still hoped his brother would come back after he found the answers he was looking for. But Sam never showed up, never called or sent a message and with the months going by one after another Dean understood Sam was not coming back any time soon… if ever.

When he realized that, he got drunk again and passed out on Bobby’s couch, hugging the almost empty bottle of whiskey he had bought that day. Bobby sighed heavily at the sight of his boy, breaking under the heaviness of the circumstances, and wished for Sam’s early return as well. He brought him a blanket and covered Dean, who only frowned and wriggled a little in his sleep, but didn’t wake up.

Bobby left him then, retiring into the boys’ room for change. He thought he would be up in the morning sooner than Dean, but what a surprise it was when the only thing he found was a note saying _Protect Ellen and Jo. The end is coming. Thanks for everything. Dean._

“The stupid idjit!” Bobby cursed. With Ellen and Jo he tried to go after Dean, to find him and talk some sense into that thick head of his, even to bring him back by force if needed. But there was no sign of Dean as though he had vanished from the world’s face. Bobby understood the boy didn’t wish to be found and he only hoped the death will find him rather later than sooner…

 


	28. Sacrifice

 

Days were going one by one and it was quiet. Too quiet to Bobby’s liking. Yes, monsters were still out there and Bobby was hunting them together with Ellen and Jo, but there was no sign of demons.

“It’s the silence before a storm,” Bobby commented one day as he looked up to the sky.

“Yeah, something’s cookin’ up,” Ellen agreed. 

“Something big,” Jo added her two cents and wiped off the blood of a shapeshifter from the silver knife she was holding.

Bobby wasn’t a praying type, but this time he prayed for his boys to be okay and to come back to him. Together they could figure this mess out, but what chance did they have separately?

He didn’t know if there truly was someone up there listening to his prayers, but a few weeks later when he stepped out from the house he found out that half of his prayers was heard out.

“Hello, Bobby,” Sam said awkwardly and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Sam…” Bobby breathed out, surprised. He made a few tentative steps toward the youngest Winchester. “You’re back.”

“Yeah,” Sam said and a small, shy smile played on his lips.

Bobby forgot why he came out from the house, what he had been up to. He minimized the distance between them with swiftness that hardly anybody would have expected from him, and hugged Sam tightly. “It’s good to see you again, boy.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” Sam said with relief in his voice. Whatever he had expected, it wasn’t a warm welcome.  He returned the hug tentatively. “How are you doing?” he asked, after Bobby let go of him finally.

Bobby shrugged. “You know… The same ol’ stuff. How about you?” He gave Sam a searching look.

A serious expression settled on Sam’s face. “I came to warn you. I heard you’re hunting with Jo and Ellen…”

“Yeah…” Bobby said hesitantly. “What’s the warning?”

“Protectors… are gone,” Sam said gravely. “And there are only a few Warriors left. They won’t last long. The Yellow-Eyed demon is coming for Jo in no time.”

Bobby frowned. “What? How the hell you know?”

“I simply _know_ , Bobby. I know,” Sam said with emphasis. “Protectors are either dead or they are Protectors no more. Like me.” He pressed his lips into a thin line and a flash of anger brightened his eyes for a moment. “It’s the same with Warriors.”

“Dead or… like Dean,” said Bobby gravely and Dean’s name sounded like it was rubbed against sandpaper.

“Or you,” added Sam. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Jo’s here?”

Bobby didn’t need to answer, because exactly at that moment one very pissed Jo marched out from the house.

“Where the hell have you been?” she barked at him. “Not even saying bye and disappearing for MONTHS! Is this who you are now?”

Sam stepped back, confused with Jo’s anger. He threw a stealthy glance in Bobby’s direction.

“Jo, he’s just come. Give him time to take a breath…”

“What breath?” she snapped, outraged. “Did he give us a chance to take a breath? Did he give it to Dean?” Her attention returned to Sam, her teeth gritted, her eyes blazing. “What did you think? That you’d waltz here like a big boss and we’d welcome you with open arms? Go to hell, Sam! Why did you bother to come back, anyway?”

“He came to warn us,” Bobby took the floor again.

“Warn us?” Jo’s fighting spirit took a break for a moment , and she looked at Sam, perplexed. “What’s going on?” 

“It won’t take long and the Yellow-Eyed Demon will come for you,” Sam said.

Jo was silent for a few seconds, but then she looked at Sam with disdain. “Good. Let him come and let’s hope he’ll at least bring Dean home and in one piece,” she snapped again, turned around and returned into the house.

Sam was gazing after her until she disappeared from his sight, then he turned to Bobby with a question in his eyes. “Dean’s gone?”

“Yeah,” Bobby said, pretending indifference.

“How long?”

“A few months.” Bobby’s voice was blank, absolutely emotionless. Talking about those things was painful even for him. His boys, _his sons_ , even though they weren’t his blood, became strangers to each other and Bobby was asking himself why it had had to go so far…

 Sam looked sincerely surprised. “Oh… I thought…”

“What? That he’ll wait for you forever like some Disney princess? He waited enough,“ Bobby snapped.  And there it was, the anger he had been pushing back for so long was coming to the surface finally and turning into fury.

“Where did he go?” Sam asked in a low voice, oblivious to Bobby’s tone.

“I don’t know, he didn’t share with me,” Bobby said, grumpily, trying to keep his temper in check and explain to the pig-headed younger Winchester boy the graveness of the situation. “My guess is he went to hunt down the son of a bitch that did this to you two and try to get killed in the process because you couldn’t accept the loss of your friggin’ essence. You may blame him for it, he beats himself for it, but the truth is he was the one who whatever he chose was going to lose. So he chose the less evil and sacrificed your Protector essence for your life so that he didn’t lose at least that one bond he has with you.”

Sam frowned and tilted his head to the side like the dog he used to be. “What bond?” he asked, bewildered.

That was the last drop. “Are you dumb?” Bobby growled. “You’re BROTHERS, Sam, blood relatives! You may have lost your Warrior, you may have lost your lover, but you haven’t lost your brother and as long as you’re alive, no one can rob you of that. Idjit…”

Sam stared at him as though Bobby had said something incomprehensible. Bobby snorted at that sight and considered to go back into the house as well, but the curiosity held him on the spot.

“Honestly, Sam, why did you come back? Was it really only to warn us?” he asked eventually.

“I…” Sam started, but then fell silent, biting his lip. “I need to go,” he said in the end and got into the old junker which had brought him there and which he had surely stolen somewhere.

Bobby watched as the car left the salvage yard and then returned into the house at last. #

Sam drove away, speeding down the road. He didn’t know what he felt, but now he was used to that feeling and it couldn’t surprise him anymore. He felt like a robot, working only on memories and things he thought he should do. When he had left, he was trying to figure out who he had become. He wasn’t human. Definitely didn’t feel like that. He was just a lost existence with an amputated essential part. He was a cripple and nothing more.

The more he was trying to live with his handicap, the more it was obvious that without Dean he was no one. He tried hunting and almost died. He tried to mingle with humans, but they must have felt he was different. Or they simply didn’t like that haunted look of his eyes. He was nothing to them. Dogs hated him, too. He didn’t know why, but he chalked it to a new smell. He was alone and lost, looking for a lifeline. That was why he had come back. He had hoped that if the world couldn’t give him answers, maybe Dean could. 

But it was Bobby who had shown him the direction. Most of all, Sam longed for a connection. He needed to feel he belonged somewhere again where he didn’t need to feel ashamed for what had happened to him. Because shame was the only distinct emotion he was capable of.

Sam was looking for a bond, even though he was afraid to name it like that. He was looking for a new life goal. And Bobby, God bless him for a thousand times, had showed him a good start to rediscover who he was when he had reminded him the only bond Sam still had. And this one was unbreakable. No matter where Sam would go, no matter what he would do, Dean would always be his brother, it was imprinted in their blood, written in their DNA. They would never lose this bond.

Sam was hopeful. He wasn’t no one anymore. He was Dean’s brother, his blood relative, his family. Even a demon couldn’t change that. Sam realized he loved every bit of that fact and suddenly his existence started making sense again. Having a family meant having responsibilities toward it. It meant to care for it and protect it with everything he had, even if it wasn’t much.

Sam set his heart on his new goal to find his brother before Dean found the Yellow-Eyed Demon or the Yellow-Eyed Demon found Dean.

Searching was tough, but not impossible. Dean was covering his tracks and maybe he could fool Bobby, Ellen and Jo, but he couldn’t fool Sam, who had known him his whole life and spent with him his best years. He knew how Dean’s head worked, so it wasn’t that hard to find him.  

It happened in a small town at the end of the world. Dean was just ordering double whiskey when Sam entered. He came up to the bar and sat down on a stool right next to his brother.

Dean glanced up from his glass, and when he suddenly realized who was sitting next to him, he raised his head abruptly and gazed at Sam. Disbelief was exchanged by anger, the darkness in Dean’s eyes became more distinct.

Sam didn’t get scared by Dean’s stare. “Hello, Dean,” he said in a conversational tone.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean spat, his voice gruff.

“Looking for you,” Sam replied calmly.

“Suddenly…” Dean growled angrily. “Why?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“But I don’t want to talk to you,” Dean snapped and reached for his whiskey. “Things changed, Sam. You left and even if I tried searching for you, you didn’t want to be found. So I had to learn to live without you. I’m fine now. I don’t need you anymore. So fuck off and don’t bother me ever again.” He downed his whiskey and looked at Sam again. “How did you find me, anyway? I was careful to cover my tracks. I didn’t want Bobby or anyone to look for me.”

Sam snorted at that and ordered his own shot of whiskey. “That’s because you haven’t changed. You may have stopped being a Warrior, but you stayed the same person. There’s no one who knows you better than I since I was the only one who had the access into your head.”

Dean glanced at Sam as though he was considering his words. “I had even better access into your head,” he spoke after a while, “and I still couldn’t find you.” It was a clear reproach.

“Because I’ve become someone else,” Sam said in a low voice.

Dean smirked, took Sam’s glass and drank it down himself.

“No, Sammy,” he addressed him familiarly, but not amicably. “You’ve only become something else. Inside, you’ve stayed the same stubborn bitch. The only difference is that you’re not my bitch anymore.” He put the glass down in front of Sam and slid down from his stool.

“Dean,” Sam tried to stop him.

“Leave me alone, Sam. I mean it,” Dean said and walked to the door. As Sam was looking after him, he realized that he was watching the man who had lost everything.

He knew he couldn’t leave it like that not only because he hadn’t gotten his answers yet, but also because Dean was obviously walking a dangerous paths that was leading to only one end – his death. That was why when Dean came back into his motel room after a couple of hours, he found Sam there. He rolled his eyes.

“How long are you waiting here?” he asked, more tiredly than angrily.

“A while.”

“How did you find out where I’m staying? Wait. I know. I haven’t changed and you know me,” he said sarcastically with a sour grin.

“Dean, I’m not here to fight,” Sam spoke in a low voice. “All I want is to... talk. To work this out…”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Work out, yeah? What exactly do you want to work out?”

Sam bit his lip, and then sighed. “This. You and me. Us.”

“There’s no us, Sam. You made it pretty clear the last time,” Dean pointed out and walked into the bathroom to wash his face.

“I know. But… There’s something more that makes us US. We’re brothers. We could start there…”

“Suddenly!” Dean cried out, outraged, and turned around abruptly to face Sam. “Out of the blue you remembered that the guy you used to bang is your brother. Wow, Sam! What a revelation,” he drawled sarcastically.

Sam sighed and gave Dean his best puppy dog eyes. “Dean, don’t be like this. Please.”

Dean backed from that pleading look, but his frown became even darker. “What do you want from me, Sam?” he asked with hostility.

“I…” Sam started, but no other words came out. He cast his look down as if he was ashamed. “I just thought…”

“What?” Dean demanded.

“… that we could restore the bond,” Sam finished, feeling embarrassed. Dean’s gaze was cold and unfriendly and Sam felt small and stupid under its heaviness.  

“Restore, yeah? Our bond…” Dean said those words in such a tone as though they offended him. “The bond that I destroyed you mean.”

“Yes,” Sam said quietly and only then he realized what he agreed with. “Wait! No! I didn’t mean it like that. We’re brothers. We can start there…”

“Brothers, right,” Dean said in a defeated tone. “You kinda tend to forget that we used to be something more…” he sighed. “Leave me alone, Sammy. We can’t restore what was broken once.”

“No. No, I don’t accept it,” Sam said stubbornly. “Please, Dean, come home with me…”

Dean’s gaze hardened again and he set his jaw, glaring at Sam. “How else should I tell you that I don’t want to see you anymore?” he growl.

“No, you don’t mean it,” Sam said, losing his patience himself. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you want, I don’t care. Just… fuck off finally.”

“No.”

Dean stiffened. “No?” he asked menacingly.

“No, I’m not going anywhere,” Sam repeated. He counted with anger, yelling, glaring, and arguing, but he didn’t count with a punch in his face.

Sam didn’t know why or how, maybe it was the deep rooted male instinct that if someone attacked you, you wouldn’t let it go just so, it was the matter of pride and dignity, and he punched back.

Dean obviously didn’t expect such a response, stared at his brother, bewildered. Sam stared back at Dean, eyes wide in surprise. He had never done that. He had never return the blow, had never hurt Dean as his Protector. There had always been something that had held him back. But not today and it was liberating. He could punch Dean. He could do whatever he wanted to him, there was nothing to prevent him from hurting him. Sam felt sick joy for it, he could beat the crap out of Dean, it was HIS choice, his own free will that he didn’t. Because he didn’t WANT it, not because he was programmed like that by some higher power.

He grinned when another punch came, and this time he blocked it and swung his fist at Dean. Dean didn’t have it, of course, and he had years of practice with Sam when there were no inner inhibitions coded in his Warrior nature. He could have done to Sam whatever he damn please and Sam wouldn’t have raised a finger against him.

Now it was over. Now they could fight, throw blows, kick and hit and punch and bite (Sam’s specialty) freely and there was some perverted satisfaction in that for both of them. There was nothing they couldn’t do to each other anymore. Sam could hurt his brother and therefore there was no reason for Dean to hold back.

They fought like that until Sam bit Dean’s lower lip. That surprised Dean, but also angered him more. He returned the bite. Sam snorted and attacked Dean’s mouth again, feeling the coppery taste of blood on the lip split from the fight. He tried to roll his tongue inside and get the upper hand in this fight. Dean was not having it, pushing Sam’s tongue away with his own and invading his little brother’s mouth himself.

The first button was ripped from Sam’s shirt, followed by the rest of them in a short time.

“Hey!” Sam yelled and went for Dean’s shirt.

They literally tore their shirts and undershirts from their bodies. Punches were exchanged by grabbing and pulling, manhandling and pushing, thrusting and shoving, trying to get each other out of their pants. Dean shoved his hand down Sam’s underwear. Sam groaned and threw his head backwards. Dean used the chance and bit Sam’s neck, leaving a mark there. Sam gave a deep, undefined noise. His hands slid down Dean’s body and kneaded his ass.

Dean’s hand in Sam’ boxers grabbed Sam’s cock and started pumping it feverishly. Sam gave a new excited moan. He parted his legs a little and put his hands on Dean’s shoulders, looking for support. It didn’t take long until Sam gasped, his body shuddering, and he came into Dean’s hand. Dean helped Sam through his absolutely human orgasm, not stopping pumping his cock in the same frantic rhythm, until Sam put rested his forehead against Dean’s shoulder.

Dean pulled his hand out of Sam’s boxers and looked at it, half-surprised and half-pleased. “You used to have much better stamina, lil brother.”

“Shut up,” Sam snapped, still catching his breath.

Dean growled quietly. He grabbed Sam’s wrist and turned his around, then he manhandled him to the bed and threw him on it. In the next second he was sitting between Sam’s spread legs, his one hand resting on Sam’s back and pushing him down, the fingers of the other massaging gently the muscles of Sam’s hole.

Dean pushed one finger inside, testing the waters. It was just like he remembered, Tight and sweet and waiting only for him to conquer it anew. If there had been someone before him, he was going to wipe his presence from Sam’s beautiful, strong, muscled, body that had belonged to Dean once.

“You don’t carry any lube around by chance, do you?” he asked, pushing a second dry finger in. Sam groaned, but otherwise lay still.

“I do by chance,” he replied. “The inner pocket of my jacket… Mmmmmmmm!!!”

Sam carrying lube around could mean only one thing and that meant Dean wasn’t wrong. There HAD been someone. Dean gritted his teeth in blind fury and shoved his three fingers up Sam’s ass fiercely. He started fucking him with them swiftly, violently, not caring if it hurt Sam or not. He deserved a punishment for all that pain he caused to Dean.

Maybe Sam thought the same, because he lay there and let Dean do whatever he wanted with him. He only panted into the sheets, gripping them, but he neither tried to run from Dean’s fingers nor told his to stop. He took everything from him bravely and without complaint.

Dean finally stopped and went to look for the lube. He found exactly where Sam had told him together with a couple of condoms which he ignored. He returned on the bed and coated his cock with the gel, then made Sam to spread his legs wider and positioned himself. Sam was lying on his belly, not moving and waiting for Dean to finally drive home.

Dean pushed inside, slowly but deliberately. Sam moaned quietly and gripped the sheets tighter, but he looked more like Dean had relieved him from some burden than taking a well-deserved punishment.

Dean didn’t stop until he was balls deep in Sam’s fine ass. He pressed his chest to Sam’s back and bit his ear gently.

“How many were there after you’d left me?” he asked in a low, dangerous voice.

“What? No one,” Sam panted.

“Liar,” Dean growled and, pulling out and thrusting back in.

Sam groaned, but he lay there peacefully with Dean’s dick deep inside, his face flushed and muscles flexed, and he still let Dean take him the way he damn pleased.

So Dean fucked him. Hard and violently, wanting Sam to feel everything, every single damn day since he had left, every damn minute of that torment. He wanted him to know what he had done, how much he had hurt Dean, how much he wanted him to feel every shard of Dean’s broken heart. Now, when the ability to feel each other’s emotions was gone, they needed to find new ways of showing them.

Sam took it bravely. He knew. Dean couldn’t be more eloquent. And in that frantic, desperate, violent rhythm Sam found his answers…

“Wait,” he said and even though it looked Dean was not going to grant him that wish, when Sam moved and tried to raise himself on his hands and knees, he stopped pounding into him for a moment, even helping him into the intended position. Once they managed that, Dean started moving again – in, out, in, out in the same rapid pace. Sam moved together with him, his hips meeting Dean’s with each thrust in.

Dean’s hand roamed over Sam’s muscled back, enjoying the feel of his skin slick with sweat. The he gripped Sam’s hips tighter and changed the angle slightly.

Sam gave a loud cry of pleasure and he continued making those beautiful noises as Dean kept hitting that sweet spot inside of him.

They bodies moved in perfect harmony, their moans echoed through the room in unison. For that moment, they weren’t two brothers who had gone through Hell and weren’t on the same page anymore. For that moment, they were perfect lovers – just like always… just like before…

Dean’s body shivered and flexed as he climaxed into Sam’s body, his fingers pressing into Sam’s skin so hard there were going to leave bruises. Marked from both the inside and the outside, Sam knew he was in the right place.

“Dean…” he moaned.

“Sammy,” Dean sighed and pulled out carefully. It seemed his anger had dissipated, but Sam was afraid to try and guess what emotions had prevailed. If Dean didn’t have his anger anymore, than what was left to him?

Dean was panting behind, his hands still resting on Sam’s hips, the touch now gentle, almost reverent. His fingers slowly slid down Sam’s flank and between his thighs, touched his balls gently and moved to his hard-on. Sam sighed and pushed into Dean’s hand.

“Easy,” Dean cajoled and pulled his hand away to Sam’s displeasure. Subsequently, there was pressure on the small of Sam’s back, pushing him down on the bed.

Sam went, excited and docile. Dean made him turn around and lie on his back, then he pushed Sam’s knees apart and positioned between them himself.

Sam chanced a glance at him. Dean was beautiful. The green of his eyes was more distinct, his hair ruffled, his body gleaming with sweat. There was a concentrated expression in his face as he caressed the inner sides of Sam’s thighs until two of his fingers sank into the heat of Sam’s body again. Sam groaned and noticed a hint of a crooked smile appeared on Dean’s lips, the lips that encircled Sam’s cock in the very next second.

A new moan left Sam’s throat. Dean was leading him to his second orgasm slowly but infallibly. How long had it been since he could feel Dean’s gorgeous mouth like this? Yet, he got a hard slap from the reality right into his face – there was  no sensitive knot Dean could work on. Sam’s body was strange and it reacted in a strange, unknown way, his cock wasn’t the one he grew up with and knew and _liked_ , and he still felt that this new one belonged solely into Dean’s mouth and no one else’s.

Sam sighed… and came. It looked like Dean could deal with the changes of Sam’s body better than Sam himself. He swallowed, there were no hectoliters of come this time, it was another perfectly human orgasm. It crossed Sam’s mind that Dean had probably been with someone else… Not that he blamed him, it was his fault anyway, but the thought stabbed him right into his heart.

Dean wiped is mouth with the back of his hand and lay down beside Sam, staring at the ceiling as well. “You should take a shower,” he said blankly.

“Can’t move,” Sam replied lazily and didn’t bother to move even his finger.      

“Good, that was the point.” Finally, there was an emotion in Dean’s voice – satisfaction.

Sam turned his head to look at Dean. “Do you hate me?”

Dean didn’t reply immediately. He kept staring at the ceiling until he sighed heavily. “No,” he said at last. “But I want to.” He looked at Sam, too. “Do _you_ hate me?”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t. I can’t.”

“What does it mean?” Dean asked, curious.

Sam shrugged and it was his turn to look at the ceiling. “I don’t know.”

“Do you love me?” Dean asked quietly, almost shyly as though he was afraid of the answer.

Sam stared at him again, looking right into Dean’s hopeful eyes. He knew what Dean wanted to hear, but he didn’t want to lie to him.

“I don’t know,” he repeated the previous words and watched as that open expression started disappearing from Dean’s features. “I don’t know how true love feels,” he explained quickly. “I only know that I care about you and I want to be always close to you. And I know that this time it’s not because I was born like that.”

There was silence, only the sound of their breathing could be heard. Dean was gazing at Sam for a very long time until he spoke again.

“Were you with anyone while you were gone?” 

 Sam breathed out slowly and looked at the ceiling. “I wanted to,” he admitted. “I found out it was easy to catch attention of either women or men, but…” He looked at Dean again, who was staring at him. “The sole idea of anyone else touching me this way gives me goose bumps. It can be only you or no one.” He fell silent again and sat up. Even though he could feel faint pain and his muscles straining unpleasantly, he didn’t care. Dean was more important. He needed to know.

“I was angry at first. At you, at myself… Even at Bobby and Pamela. But then I realized it wasn’t your fault or their fault. It wasn’t even my fault. It wasn’t something I was used to. It was something deeper and scarier. I was afraid and that was why I didn’t come back. I was afraid you wouldn’t want me back.”

It was Dean’s turn to give a heavy exhale. “I would lie if I said I don’t,” he said softly. “Still, Sammy,” he looked Sam right in the eyes, “you can’t come whenever you want and say you want to be back with me. You hurt me. I don’t want to be hurt again. Not like this, not from you.”

“I’m sorry…” Sam said, dejected.

Dean stood up and bent for his boxers to pull them on. “I’m gonna take a shower. I’m sticky…” he announced and disappeared in the small motel bathroom. Sam waited in bed meanwhile. He knew something about being sticky.

It took Dean some time to get out. “You can go,” he said to Sam.

Sam got out of bed and crossed the few paces to the bathroom, not bothered by his complete nakedness. Dean flinched at the sight at him and turned away, embarrassed, as though he hadn’t had sex with him just a half-hour ago. He started collecting his clothes quickly.

Sam stopped in the doorway and watched his brother for a while. “You’re leaving now, right?”

“Yep,” Dean said, avoiding looking at Sam, and pulled his pants on.

“Where are you heading now? What’s your plan?” Sam asked curiously.

Dean shrugged. “To gank the son of a bitch.” He stuck his arms into the short sleeves of his undershirt, then he pulled it over his head.

“How?” Sam continued in his interrogation.

“No clue yet.”

Sam bit his lip while Dean put his shirt on and was looking around for his boots.

“Dean, let me help you,” he said in a soft voice.

Dean sighed and stopped in his activity for a moment. “Sam…”

“Please. This one time. If we live and you don’t want to see me again, I’ll respect your wish and disappear from your life.”

Dean turned to Sam, the cogwheels in his head spinning. “Sounds fair,” he said eventually and sat down on the bed to put his boots on.

Judging from Dean’s tone, Sam knew he was kidding. He was not going to wait for him and he was definitely not going to let him help. The question was if he wanted to get rid of Sam more than he wanted to kill the Yellow-Eyed Demon.

“We’ll need the right weapon, of course,” Sam said in a conversational tone as though he didn’t notice anything.

Dean stopped lacing his boots and looked at Sam again, narrowing his eyes, and he snorted. “And you have such a weapon?” he asked mockingly and turned away. “As far as I know, the only weapon we had was lost during the demon raid in the Roadhouse.”

“It was,” Sam admitted. “But I know where it is now.”

Dean gaped at him, surprised. “What? What do you mean?”

“I know where it is,” Sam repeated calmly.

 “Son of a bitch…” Dean cursed under his breath. “Where? Tell me,” he said eagerly.

Sam grinned. “I’ll better show you,” he said and closed the door after himself.

He took his time. The Colt was his leverage and now he was sure Dean wouldn’t walk away without it in his hands. He wanted to have his revenge on the demon as much as Sam wanted his essence back. They both had their small selfish reasons why to go after the motherfucker.      

When he left the bathroom, Dean was sitting on the bed, waiting and glaring. Sam gave him a big smile before he started getting dressed.

Dean frowned even more. “I’ll wait for you in the car,” he growled and left the room.

It didn’t take Sam long to pull on his clothes. The Impala was already purring when he came out. He opened the door on the passenger’s side, their creak sounding pleasantly familiar to his ears. He slid into the seat and looked out through the windshield.     

“So? Where’s the Colt?” Dean asked none too friendly, not giving Sam a single look.

“Just drive,” Sam said to him and made himself comfortable as much as possible in the constricted space in the car.

Dean snorted and pulled the Impala on the road.

They didn’t talk much during the ride. They usually exchanged only the necessary few words like if they were stopping somewhere to eat or tank the gas and what turn Dean should take. Dean even gave up sleep in order to get to the Colt as fast as possible.

“Is it still far?” Dean asked after long hours of awkwardness between them.

“Not that much,” Sam said, staring at the road winding through the land in front of them.

Dean didn’t ask more for another long hour. “I was just… wondering… Are we going to the ruins of the Roadhouse?”

Sam smiled a little. “Yes, we are.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “You could’ve told me hours ago.”

 _And you would’ve left me somewhere at a gas station,_ Sam thought bitterly. He didn’t say anything to that comment, though

One more hour and they could see what was left of the Roadhouse. The ruins were still in the place, only wetter, stinking with mold  and rot. There were still the remains of bodies, eaten by scavengers from the most part. Dean parked the Impala from the “backside” as he used to when the house was still standing. He remembered the times when he and Sam used to come here. It felt like a thousand years ago.

Sam jumped out of the car and he was walking among the ruins now, looking around as though he was searching for something. Suddenly he kicked one of the broken timbers, then bent and started digging under the ruins. Dean came to him and helped him, until Sam was able to push his long arm through the gap they made and reach deep down under the ruins. He still couldn’t reach the Colt.

“Deeper,” he said and they continued in their work.

After some time of removing more of the broken pieces of the Roadhouse and stinking body remains  a hole appeared in front of them. Sam pushed his tall, lean body into it, reaching more, but still not getting to his trophy.

“Fuck,” he cursed and got out. “I need you help me to get this piece of shit away.” He pointed at a big, heavy board, clocking his way.

Together they managed to pull the board away and then Sam crawled into the hole again and more than anything he reminded Dean of the dog he used to be.

“Do you have it?” asked Dean.

“A little bit more… Wait…” Sam growled, climbed deeper, tearing his jeans on the sharp edge of whatever it was, and then pulled out with a triumphant grin on his face. “Got it!” he said, shining like the sun, holding the Colt.

Dean grinned widely, too. “Oh, come here, baby,” he said, delighted and stretched out is hand. “How did you know where to find it, anyway?”

“Because I hid it here myself during the raid before they abducted me,” Sam explained. He glanced at Dean’s hand and hesitated. Then he shook his head and stepped back.

Dean gave him a surprised look. “Come one, Sam, give it to me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it,” Sam replied as he stuck the Colt behind the waistband of his jeans on his back.

“What the…? Sam! Give it here!”

But Sam didn’t listen to his brother. He climbed off the pile of the debris and walked to the Impala swiftly. “Come one, Dean! Bobby’s waiting for us,” he called before he got in.

Dean blinked. This was unbelievable! A frown darkened his handsome face again and he followed his younger brother into the car.

“When the hell did you manage to talk to Bobby?” he grunted.

“During one of the breaks while you were tanking gas and sent me buy food. I told him we were getting the Colt and coming.”

Dean still didn’t start the Impala. “Why?” he asked.

“Because, Dean, going after the Yellow-Eyed Demon alone is a suicide mission,” Sam said in his so well-known bitchy tone. “Because there’s more in the game. There’s the world…”

“Don’t world me!” Dean didn’t watch his temper anymore. “You knew where the Colt was and you still didn’t come…”

It was a serious accusation and Sam knew it. He didn’t care about the world that much. That was one thing he didn’t learn – to care about the greater good. He was too used to care only about Dean and maybe a few more people like Bobby or Pamela… Maybe he hadn’t changed that much. Maybe the true nature of his essence was only to enable him to change and form a bond with his Warrior.

“Fine, as you wish,” he snapped and looked away. “It’s not the world. It’s not even our friends. It’s my essence. I want it back.”

Dean reached for the keys in the ignition and started the Impala at last.

“I knew it,” he said haughtily. “You’ve always been so noble…” he mocked.

“Stop it,” Sam said. “My reasons may be selfish. Yes, I want my essence and I want to restore our bond. But you want to have your revenge. So tell me, what’s so noble about that?”

It was Dean’s turn to stay silent and gaze stubbornly on the road in front of him.

“You know it’s impossible to restore the bond. I cut you off,” he said in the end, ignoring the part about the revenge.

“Thanks for reminding me,” Sam said wryly, but then all the fight left him. He looked at his hands folded in his lap. “We can try.”

Dean didn’t reply anymore. He was heading to Sioux Falls to meet the rest of their friends.   

The ride was awkward and silent again. Sam guarded the Colt even though Dean didn’t give any sign that he might have wanted to snitch it and hare off. Still, one couldn’t be careful enough, right?

Dean kept driving even when it was already nightfall, he didn’t stop even at the sunrise and was still driving even when the sun was already high. They reached Bobby’s salvage yard shortly before noon and Dean still didn’t look tired after the long right. He was impatient and motivated and he wanted things to finally move on.

Bobby and Jo where just loading the trunk of Bobby’s car with guns and weapons when the Impala parked on the yard. They both started at the black car with awe.

“Holly hell, he brought him back,” Jo said incredulously.

Bobby stood beside her as they watched the boys get out of the Impala and walk toward them.

“Just in time for you two to show up,” Bobby growled.

“Hey, guys, what are you doing?” asked Sam and tried for a small smile.

“What do you think, you idjit?” Bobby cooled him down. “You came here with a warning, so we’re getting ready.”

Sam nodded while Dean gave him a suspicious look.

“What did I miss?” he asked.

“Your brother,” this time Jo spoke, “informed us that Warriors were gone and the Yellow-Eyed son of a bitch was coming for me.”

Dean threw an angry look in Sam’s direction. “You wanted to tell me this when exactly?”

Sam shrugged. “There wasn’t time…”

Dean threw his hands in the air helplessly. “I swear I’ll kill you one day,” he grumbled. Sam reminded him of his old, indifferent self so painfully right now. Obviously the bitch decided it was more important to pester Dean with his foolish and absolutely unreal idea of renewing their bond than telling him that their friend was in trouble. “How do you know that, anyway?” he asked.

“I have my sources,” Sam said. “While I was gone, I did the investigation of my own.”

Dean snorted and didn’t even look at his brother. Sam kept pissing him off ever since he had found Dean in the bar.

“Are you gonna argue or are you comin’ in?” Bobby interrupted their bickering and headed for the house. Jo threw one strict glare in the boys’ direction and followed the hunter inside. Sam and Dean walked after them not uttering a word for change.

The four of them entered Bobby’s living room. The hunter brought two glasses and a bottle of whiskey and Jo brought four more glasses. Dean counted them three times but he still came to the result there was one glass more than they needed.

Then Jo disappeared from their sight and returned after a while with Ellen at her heels.

“Hey, boys. Nice to see you again,” she said and unlike Bobby and Jo she looked genuinely delighted to see them there.

“Nice to see you too,” Dean replied, giving her a small smile. He came up to her to hug her. Suddenly he registered another person standing behind Ellen and his mood dropped again. If there was someone he wanted to see less than Sam, it was definitely Pamela.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her with hostility as he let go of Ellen. “What is _she_ doing here?” he turned to Bobby with accusation in his voice.

“She came to help,” Bobby said. “I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s not many of us and every hand willing to help counts.” 

Dean sized her up, his eyes narrow and fists clenched. He unclenched them only when Jo handed him his glass of whiskey.

“Hello, Dean,” Pamela said gently. Dean didn’t have it. He replied with drinking his glass down and handing it to Jo for another shot.

“Sam,” she addressed the younger brother, but Sam didn’t even look at her. He was sipping from his glass, absolutely ignoring Pamela’s presence.

Dean understood and he didn’t blame Sam. Pamela had left him when he had fallen to the very bottom. She had looked at him with disdain and turned her back on him when he had needed her to help him rediscover who he was. She had left him alone so she didn’t need to bother to be there now. Sam had learned to not need her anymore.

Dean didn’t say a word to her as well and chose, more instinctively than intentionally, to stand between her and Sam. If she tried to reach Sam somehow, she would have to go through Dean first, and Dean wasn’t sure if he let her. 

“So… what’s the plan?” Sam asked and sipped from his glass, stubbornly avoiding looking at Pamela.

“Waiting and getting ready. And when the Yellow-Eyed motherfucker comes for my daughter, we won’t it make easy for him,” Ellen grumbled. Her words were the unmistakable sign that she considered this fight to be already lost. What could kill a demon that was immune to salt, iron and even a Devil’s Trap?

“We can hold the fort from the panic room until the moment we run out of food. After that point we’re done,” Bobby said and finished his glass. Jo poured him a new shot.

“That’s your plan?” Dean said incredulously. “Wait here for your death?”

“You have a better plan?” Bobby asked him sharply.

Dean looked around, even at Pamela. Hopelessness was reflecting in each face around.

“We do,” Sam spoke. He reached behind to the waistband of his jeans and pulled out a gun. He put it in Bobby’s huge wooden desk.

Everyone looked at it in disbelief that quickly turned into awe.

“That’s the Colt,” Bobby said. “Where did you get it?”

“As it turned out, it was never lost,” Dean said, glancing at Sam.  “Sammy here managed to hide it before the Roadhouse was destroyed and he was kidnapped.”

“Good job, Sam,” Ellen said with a smile which looked a little bit odd as though she had forgotten how to smile a long time ago.

“There’s one more thing,” Sam spoke again, not returning the smile. “All the bullets are gone except one. That means we have only one shot. If me miss, we’re done.”

His words hang heavily in the air. Everyone could feel he responsibility. There was hope, but it was limited by the one and only bullet that could kill the demon and save them.

“That would be for the Yellow-Eyed son of a bitch,” Bobby said in a cold, practical voice. “But there’ll be more of them. The ordinary demons shouldn’t be much of trouble, the old-school methods should work on them. The true problem will be the ones with essences. Immune to everything we know except a Protector’s power which we are short of…”

“That’s not entirely true,” Pamela spoke suddenly and all the eyes in the room, also the ones of the Winchester brothers, fixed on her.

“What are you saying?” Bobby asked carefully.

“I’m saying leave those to me,” Pamela replied, and a gleam that Sam had never seen in her eyes but he knew it too well appeared in them. It was the look of a Protector in their full power.

Bobby nodded. He understood, too. “Fine. Let’s get back to work now,” he commanded, finished his glass of whiskey and left the room.

It was late evening when they finished. They filled hundreds of shells with rock salt, carved Devil’s Traps into iron bullets and painted them in each doorway in the house and ceilings, sharpened knives, even recorded the exorcising formula in their phones. Shortly after the whole work was done, Dean realized Sam sneaked out from the house. He didn’t think he would be missed either if he left their little company for a while.

He wasn’t even surprised when he found Sam in the old jeep, his childhood shelter, sitting in the passenger’s seat, the light from the car’s ceiling was on.

“Hey,” he greeted him. “Whatcha doin’ here?”

Sam looked up from the book he was reading. “Hey. I didn’t hear you coming,” he replied with a smile.

 _Obviously,_ Dean thought bitterly. If Sam still had had his essence, he would have not even heard, but also sensed Dean from miles away.

“It’s nothing. Just reading,” Sam answered Dean’s question.

Dean walked around the car and occupied the seat behind the wheel. “What’s that?” he asked, motioning at the book.

Sam closed the book and showed Dean the title, _The Legend of Protectors._

Dean smiled. “I could’ve known. Have you found something useful in there?”

Sam shrugged. “Not really. More like comforting. But not useful, no.”

“Uh-huh…” Dean didn’t know what to say more.

“Look,” Sam said suddenly. He opened the glove compartment and pulled out his dog collar. He handed it to Dean, he took it and looked at the tag. There was his name engraved into it with the address of the salvage yard. “I was your dog,” Sam said softly.

“Yes, you were mine…” Dean said sadly, sliding a finger over the letters. The he lifted his gaze to Sam’s face and realized his brother was watching him. “I’m sorry. I hurt you beyond forgivable…”

“You did,” Sam said softly. “Not knowing who you are and what you’re feeling… I know why the poor bastards went crazy.”

“But not you,” Dean pointed out.

Sam smiled and looked away. “Not me. But it was damn hard to keep that last piece of sense that was still left. I was fighting for it every day.”

“Sounds tough.”

“It was.”

“I’m truly sorry,” Dean said quietly.

Sam turned to him abruptly. “Don’t be. I know why you did that. I’ve known it all along, but the pain of the loss blinded me. I’m sorry. I wasn’t fair to you. I know you wanted to save me because you loved me, so you chose what you thought was lesser evil.”

“I’ve never stopped loving you,” Dean said in a choked voice, watching Sam’s face.  

Sam’s eyes widened and they glimmered oddly. “I hurt you unforgivably, too,” he whispered.

“You did,” Dean said earnestly and it was his turn to look away. “But I couldn’t just stop. It doesn’t work like that.”

Sam looked out through the windshield. The sky was dark and star-studded. “I know,” he said almost inaudibly and lowered his head.

“What brought you back?” Dean asked softly. “Didn’t you find what you were looking for?”

“No, I found it here.” He lifted his head and looked at Dean. “I met many people but no one was like you. I belong here. To you. I know it now.”

Dean ran a hand over his face. “Sammy… We can’t restore the bond that we had once…”

“I know,” Sam said, sounding beaten.

“But we can try to create a new one,” Dean continued, not looking at Sam. He was considering his own words.  Sam raised his head, holding his breath and watching him intently. “If you…”

“I do!” the younger Winchester cried, suddenly excited. “I love you.”

Dean glanced at him. “Good,” he said. “That’s important, but not what I wanted to say.”

“Oh… Sorry. Go on.” Sam leaned against the backrest and listened carefully.

“What I meant was that we can create a new bond based on trust this time. Sammy, you’ll have to trust me even without feeling my emotions. That ability of yours is gone. And,” Dean shrugged, “this time you will know the feelings are real.” He looked at Sam and waited for his answer.

A small smile curled Sam’s lips. His eyes were shining with joy and something more that Dean couldn’t quite decode.

One second they were staring into each other’s eyes, the other their mouths were pressed tightly to one other and they were sharing hungry kisses as though they wanted to devour each other. Dean’s hand wandered to Sam’s waistband and undid the button, then he pulled the zipper down and slid his hand into Sam’s underwear.

Sam moaned into Dean’s mouth and lifted his hips a little so that he pressed his hard cock into Dean’s palm. “Dean,” he sighed.

Dean plugged Sam’s mouth with his tongue again, engaging it into a passionate game. Meanwhile he stroked Sam’s cock until he took it out from the underwear and grabbed properly so that he could start pumping it.

It was fast and desperate. They were reaching after each other as though they were one another’s  lifeline. They were grabbing, pulling, yanking, wrenching, biting, scratching, sighing, moaning, groaning, kissing, Dean was jerking Sam off and Sam was absolutely surrendering to his skillful hands.

It didn’t take long and Sam came all over his stomach, staining Dean’s hand as well. He was panting in Dean’s arms, tired but happy. He put his head on Dean’s shoulder.

“All good, little brother?”

Sam raised his head and gave Dean a thumb up. Dean smiled and stroked Sam’s hair with his clean hand. Then he reached to the glove compartment and opened it. He found a package of paper tissues there. Who knows how many years they had been there… Dean took them out and handed one to Sam.

“Clean time,” he announced and grinned.

Sam took the tissue and wiped the come from his belly while Dean cleaned his come-stained hand.

“Now’s your turn,” Sam said, reaching for Dean’s belt and licking his lips, making his intention obvious.

Dean left him and when Sam’s mouth took in his whole length, it felt like finally coming home. He wasn’t angry with him anymore, he forgave him everything just like he always had. He knew that after losing his essence Sam was lost and he needed someone to blame for what happened. And since Dean had been the one who allowed that… He could get him perfectly.

Sam was back in his life now, sucking Dean’s brain out through his cock, doing a damn great job. Dean could hold back and not start thrusting into Sam’s mouth only with difficulty. He was moaning his name, his fingers tangled in Sam’s hair. In the end he shot into Sam’s mouth without a warning, his orgasm strong and intense.

Sam raised his head and their eyes met. Dean could see in Sam’s that he was satisfied with himself and happy again. Maybe they could do this, find a new bond, understand each other without feeling the one another’s feelings. Maybe they could fix this mess and be again what they used to be. But they wouldn’t find out unless they tried, so Dean was all up for trying.

He smiled down at Sam and Sam straightened up and attacked his mouth. They kissed for a long time until the flicker of the light disturbed them.

They pulled away from each other and watched their surroundings. They knew what the flickering meant.

“They’re coming,” Sam said, pulled his zipper up and got out from the car. It was the last thing he told Dean before they were attacked.

Sam missed his dog senses. If he had still had them, the demons wouldn’t have surprised them like this. He and Dean hurried from the jeep and ran to the house, but a couple of demons stood in their way. Unfortunately, they had only knives with them. Fortunately, both of them carried a flask with holly water, so they managed to keep the demons in safe distance until they reached the Impala. While Dean opened the trunk and took out their shotguns loaded with rock salt shells, Sam backed him up.

Dean handed Sam the shotgun, but the number of demons was increasing and they could hardly ward them off alone.

“Go find Jo!” Dean cried. “I’m right behind you.”

Sam nodded and turned to the house. He needed to fight his way to the door, but before he could reach it a demon, a nasty thief of a snake’s essence, knocked him down.

“Sam!”

Sam heard his brother, but Dean had the problems of his own. He had to get rid of the son a bitch alone.

He reached into the pocket of his jacket where his phone was , but the demon bit his hand with sharp snake teeth. Sam screamed and hit the snake in its head, but it didn’t do it much. It’s huge snake body started curling around him and Sam knew if he didn’t do anything it was going to be his end.

He hated them, those thieves, twisted souls in twisted bodies infected with polluted essences. H despised them, loathed them from the bottom of his heart, felt sick to the core when any of them was close to him.

He could hardly move now and if Dean would come for his rescue soon, Sam was a dead man.

“Sammy!!!”

Sam could see him, his brother, his rescuer, but before Dean could get to him, there was another of them, a polar bear, standing in his way and preventing Dean from reaching Sam and saving him.

“Dean…” Sam wheezed, when suddenly there was an angry roar and a mountain lion bit into the snake’s neck and squeezed until the bones cracked.

The snake was dead. Sam looked into the lion’s eyes and he knew who helped him. He nodded his thanks and freed himself from the loops of the snake’s body.

After the mountain lion made sure he was all right, she jumped into the circle of the demons and helped Dean to slow them down.

Sam ran into the house, finding out why no one except Pamela had bothered to come out. Bobby, Ellen and Jo retreated into the panic room and while Bobby and Ellen were shooting them, Jo was loading their guns. Bad thing there were only a few common demons. The rest of them, the greater part, were those thieving sons of bitches. Neither iron nor rock salt worked on them, only holly water.

Sam understood pretty soon that his friends were trapped and only holding the fortress as long as the demons managed to break their resistance. Also he understood there wasn’t much he could do as long as he didn’t have his essence. The only one who could save them was fighting outside alongside Dean…

He still didn’t give up. He was NEVER going to give up to these critters. He would rather die...

The next moments were a blur. Sam remembered fighting with all he had, remembered that Ellen went to the ground, but he didn’t know if she was dead or still breathing. He remembered he couldn’t breathe and that they grabbed Jo and pulled her upstairs by her long blonde hair. Sam was dragged there too together with Bobby. Ellen was left where she fell, so Sam assumed she was truly dead. Something like sadness filled his chest and he felt angry and helpless.

“Well, well, well,” he could hear the hated well-known voice. The Yellow-Eyed Demon approached him.

Sam bared his teeth and growled. His subconscious still remembered what he had been once.

“Oh, Sam,” the demon addressed him mockingly. “You’re adorable.” He bared his own teeth, showing Sam sharp dog fangs.

Sam glared. They were HIS fangs and HIS claws now decorating the demons hands.

The Yellow-Eyed Demon noticed what Sam’s eyes were fixed at. “Nice, isn’t it?” he said, obviously satisfied with himself.

“They don’t belong to you,” Sam growled.

“They do, Sam. Now they do.” The demon came closer. “Do you even realize how powerful your essence is? You were supposed to be the hope of a new generation and you became its end instead. Thank to your brother.”

Dean’s unconscious body was thrown to Sam’s feet. “Dean!” he cried and wrenched himself from the grip of the demon that was holding him. He knew that if the demon didn’t want to let him go, he would never be able to free himself. He sank to his knees and examined Dean’s bloodied face. Dean was still breathing, thank God. Sam breathed out a sigh of relief.

He looked around. So many thieves, and he couldn’t see the essences. The unmistakable sign how much their were screwed up.

“Anyway, Sam, I’m very happy to see you again. You’ll get the best seat in my Theater of Doom,” the Yellow-Eyed nemesis turned to Jo, held by another demon by her hair. “Here she is, the last living Warrior. Isn’t she beautiful?” he asked Sam as he ran his hand down Jo’s cheek and to her breasts.

“Don’t touch me!” she yelled and wanted to kick him, but the demon barely noticed her effort.

“You should be able to appreciate her beauty, the delicate curves…” he slid his hand to Jo’s hip. She wriggled and wanted to escape his touch, but to no avail.

“Leave her alone,” Sam growled. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Sammy. She has EVERYTHING to do with this. She was supposed to be the first from the new generation. You screwed up her future. Now she’s gonna die,” said the Yellow Eyes cheerfully and turned back to Jo, whose eyes were now big and round.

Sam wanted to stand up and help her, save her, but he was grabbed from behind and pulled back.

“Howdy, beautiful,” the Yellow-Eyed Demon turned to Jo and stroked her blonde hair. Jo flinched from his touch, but it was useless. He grabbed her hair and pulled her closer.

“Get away from my daughter, you son of a bitch,” sounded suddenly.

Sam looked around and saw Ellen standing there. A thin string of dried blood stretched from the line of her hair down her face. For the first time in his life Sam experienced the feeling of relief for a friend, maybe even a touch of happiness for unexpected Ellen’s return from the assumed dead. Dean never stopped being his number one, but since Sam had lost his essence, he became more and more aware that he deeply cared for other people, too. There wasn’t a pack anymore. No enclosed circle of people who took care of him. There were only people Sam liked and therefore wanted them safe.

Ellen was standing there with a gun pointed at the Yellow-Eyed demon. Sam recognized the Colt and hoped for Ellen to not waste their last bullet…

He could see the grin spreading across the demons face, but it froze immediately as a deafening roar of a mountain lion filled the room.

Sam didn’t remember much what happened later. There was a total chaos in the room. The fight got bloody. Pamela tore many throats, tens of rock salt shells were shot, iron pokers pierced through many demonic hearts, Devil’s Traps were destroyed, holy water smoked in the air. Screaming, yelling and roaring was heard from every corner… It was carnage.

Sam protected Dean’s unconscious body, but in the heat of the fight he got too far from him. When he realized that and wanted to return, Dean was gone. He panicked an wanted to look for him while fighting the angry demons, but there was one that stood into his way.

“Going somewhere?”

Sam could hardly react, not because the demon used his mojo on him, but because Pamela appeared between him and the demon. She was in her human form, naked and stained with demon blood from head to toe. She said something, a formula that Sam remembered he had heard once, and she dived her hand into the Yellow-Eyed Demon’s chest, tearing something out.

Sam knew what it was. His very essence, the part of him he had thought was lost forever. He was so amazed that he almost missed the moment of Pamela paying the price for this deed. Blood gushed out from her chest and her legs gave in to her weight. Sam caught her in the last second before she collapsed to the floor.

“Pamela!” he cried, something heavy like a rock settling in his chest.

“Going somewhere?” he heard a well-known, low, dark and malicious voice, belonging to the very person Sam cared about most. He raised his head and saw Dean standing there, holding the Colt in his hand and aiming at the demon’s temple.

The Yellow-Eyed Demon smirked. “Do you think such a gun can hurt me?” He turned to face Dean eye-to-eye.

Dean aimed between the Yellow-Eyed Demon’s eyes… and pulled the trigger.

The shot that roared in the room sounded like an explosion. The fight in the room died and there was deafening silence.

Dean lowered his hand and looked at the dead body lying on the floor. “Yes, I think so,” he said hatefully before he pocketed the gun.

The next thing Sam remembered were green eyes fixed at him in a burst of panic in the room. Demons, scared by the death of their leader, escaped as fast as they could from the reach of the demon-killing gun. 

“Sam,” Sam could hear a weak, choked voice, and he looked at Pamela in his arms. She was coughing blood, her belly was ripped and there was no way she was going to survive this. She was holding a beautiful glowing orb in her motionless hand, Sam’s essence.

Dean sank on his knees beside his brother and the woman that had taken care of them and had been almost like a mom… until the day she had packed and left them behind. Dean was still angry at her for that, but he still thought Pamela didn’t deserve such an end. NO ONE deserved to die like this.

“Sam,” Pamela spoke again, looking up where she expected Sam’s face to be. Dean noticed the sparkle in her eyes was slowly fading. She could hardly focus on the people around her. “I’m sorry…”

“Shhh, don’t talk. It’s okay. It’s okay…” Sam said soothingly and hugged her gently.

Pamela breathed in. “You… gave my life… a new purpose. Thank you,” she rasped.

Sam stroked her hair. “You’ll be okay. We’ll patch you up.”

“Sam,” Dean said gently, and when Sam looked at him, he only shook his head slightly.

Sam turned his attention to Bobby who came closer in the meantime. “You can help her, can’t you?” he asked him desperately. What Pamela had done after he had lost his essence, hurt him deeply, but to be honest, she was almost like a mom to him. She had taken care of him, stood by him, taught him about himself. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing her. Not like this.

Jo and Ellen came closer, too, and watched the sad scene in front of their eyes.

Bobby knelt by Pamela and touched her hand in which she was still gripping Sam’s essence.

“I’ll need your help, asshole,” she said with a bloody grin and coughed.

“I’m here,” Bobby replied softly and curled his finger around her wrist gently.

Sam looked at them uncomprehendingly, then he exchanged a perplexed look with Dean, but Dean looked as bewildered as Sam felt. Obviously this was between Bobby and Pamela.

Bobby and Pamela locked their eyes and they both nodded. They understood each other without unnecessary words. They knew each other perfectly, they spent years together, brought up two excellent boys, and became true partners (minus intimacy).

Pamela took a deep breath and when she spoke, her voice was loud and strong. For that moment, she wasn’t a wounded and dying woman/animal. She was a proud, strong Protector doing her job.

Bobby held her hand tighter, and when Pamela’s voice fell silent, he lifted it and pressed to Sam’s chest.

The essence went through Sam’s skin easily and disappeared from their sight. Yet, Sam could feel it’s power, he could feel how it was filling his every cell, how it was turning him back into what he had been once. He felt the  presence of the dog, his true nature. He was himself again.

He felt the urge to bark, to howl, to run, to wag his tail, to sniff the air…

He put Pamela’s motionless body on the floor carefully and a toothy grin spread across his face. “Thank you,” he said and stretched out his clawed hand toward her.

Wait. What?

Sam looked at his hand, amazed.

“Sammy,” he heard Dean’s soft voice, and when he finally stopped gazing at his hands, he looked where Dean’s eyes were fixed.

He almost stopped breathing as a heavy, imaginary rock landed on his chest. “Pam…” he whispered brokenly.

She was dead. Bobby pushed her eyes close and took her lifeless body in his arms. He put her on the bed in the room, so that she didn’t lie on the cold floor. She deserved that much.

Sam was watching Bobby taking Pamela away from him. He watched her torn figure, her hand dangling in the air as Bobby carried her, her peaceful face… He whined quietly.

God, how good it felt to have his dog part back! He could howl his sadness and frustration into the world and it felt so good, so right, that he almost felt ashamed for feeling like that. He tilted his head to the ceiling and howled, long and tearful, his last good-bye.

The next few hours were spent mostly in silence. All of them knew what to do, they didn’t need to be told. Ellen and Jo washed Pamela’s body, then Bobby swaddled it into a long piece of linen while Sam and Dean brought dry wood and made a funeral pyre in the yard.

All of them stood there silently and watched as the hungry flames ate the dead body of a dear friend, a caretaker, a savior.

Sam’s dog parts were out: his pointed ears, his fangs, his claws, and his tail, and he watched the fire with the eyes the color of chocolate. He stood the guard by the pyre as long as the last spark went out. His dog side was slowly uniting with his human body, growing through his soul, bringing out his true nature. Sam felt his power flowing through his system. He was again who he had been once… and even more. He knew now what it meant to lose that part, to become capable of caring for other people as much as for the One while still loving that one most.

He stood there and realized that even though he got his essence back and could feel the dog inside of him again, he couldn’t shift fully. He could bring out his dog parts, but there was no chance for him to turn into the beautiful German Shepherd he had been once. That part of him had been broken and unable to heal. He couldn’t feel the Protector anymore, either. He couldn’t feel Dean the way he had used to. Nevertheless, there was another type of a bond they managed to create, similarly strong, but also more fragile. Sam was aware that this time his love wasn’t genetically programmed, that it could disappear one day if he and Dean were too lazy to work on their old-new relationship. Besides, they were brothers, blood relatives, and no one could ever take THAT away from them. They were bonded by blood and love, and as long as they cherished what they had, nothing could ever hurt them again the way the Yellow-Eyed Demon had.

They weren’t a Pair anymore. Dean wasn’t a Warrior and Sam wasn’t a Protector. That bond had been broken once and couldn’t be restored. But they stayed a couple. They loved each other as much as they used to and maybe even more.

Sam, standing at the residuum of the pyre he had been guarding the whole night, could feel that love, literally radiating from his beloved brother and dearest lover who came to him at the dawn. Dean came up to him and stood there too, silent and proud despite the healing wounds his body had suffered by the attack. Sam could feel his support, especially when Dean’ hand touched his and their fingers tangled, the gesture sentimental but so very much needed.

They stood there in silence for a long time, watching the sun rise and travel high on the sky. The time was ticking away minute by minute, hour by hour, and the warm breeze from south was blowing through the yard, scattering the ash from the pyre. Finally, Dean spoke in a soft voice, squeezing Sam’s hand tighter:

“We have work to do.”

 


	29. Epilogue: New Generation

Sam tore the essence out of the demons body and ripped her throat with his dog fangs. Another thief down. The essence in his hand dissolved like tens of them before he got here, meaning another Protector had been gone.

He turned around, looking for his brother.

Dean wiped blood away from his face and his eyes met Sam’s. They nodded in unison and silently they left the bloody scene.

They sneaked into their motel room and both of them made a beeline for the bathroom, colliding in the doorway.

“I’m first, jerk!”

“I’m older, so it’s my turn, bitch!”

“I have demon blood in my mouth, asshole! You surely don’t want me to puke on the carpet.”

“Um… Fine, the bathroom’s yours… moron.” Dean retreated from the bathroom doorway, letting Sam in.

“You can call Bobby meanwhile,” Sam said and closed the door behind himself.

He started stripping the blood-soaked clothes, happy to finally be able to get rid of them. He’d burn them or something. Too much demon blood on them. He was sure he would smell it even if he tried to wash the clothes with a super-strong detergent.

He stepped under the warm stream of water and sighed contentedly. His stiff muscles appreciated the tender care of his fingers as he massaged the sore arms and shoulders. Maybe he would try to persuade Dean to work on him a little…    

After the shower he brushed his teeth, even the dog ones, and rinsed his mouth properly. Now he was ready to face the world (and Dean) again.

He left the bathroom, gloriously naked, only with a towel wound around his hips. Dean just ended the call. Sam looked at him quizzically.

“Bobby says hi. He, Ellen and Jo exorcised a bunch of demons yesterday and found a location of two more thieves. He’ll send the coordinates.”

Sam nodded. “How are they?”

“I’d say excellent, judging from his bitchy tone.”

Sam grinned. “And Ellen and Jo?” he asked subsequently.

“They’re doing fine. I think the old grunt enjoys having them around. They make a good team.”

“That’s what I think, too.”

“They found a baby. A tiger,” Dean suddenly said, a gentle smile brightened his face.

The air in Sam’s lungs hitched and he stared at Dean as though he said something unbelievable and absolutely amazing in the same time. “Really?”

Dean nodded. “No kidding. She’s only a couple months old. Her Warrior’s five. Both girls.”

Sam laughed. “Well, I wish them good luck with coming out as L. E. S. B. I. A. N. S.”

Dean grinned, but they both knew it didn’t need to be like that. The little tiger girl would most likely experience an unrequited love while her Warrior would find her partner. But who knows. Maybe the girls would find their way to each other and they would live happily ever after.

Sam knelt in front of Dean and gave him a gentle, happy kiss, which Dean deepened. Surely they had their fights, but they couldn’t imagine their lives without each other. They were hunters and job partners, lovers and brothers, no confusion about their identity or who they belonged to anymore. They were a Pair of their own unique sort.

Sam broke the kiss after some time and grinned. He patted Dean’s thighs and stood up. “You can go to shower, by the way,” he said and went to look for clean clothes.

Dean looked at him thoughtfully. “We could take it together, you know…”

Sam straightened up and looked at Dean with reproach in his eyes. “Now you have a good idea?”

Dean smirked and shrugged. “Sorry… not sorry.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.” Dean leered and a roguish spark flashed in his eyes. He knew what was coming. “Horny much?”

“Shut up and get into the shower before I make you.”

“Aw, Sammy, you shouldn’t make empty promises,” Dean teased, and when their eyes locked, there was challenge in his eyes.

“Asshole,” Sam growled, but there was that spark in his eyes, too, and he made a few steps in Dean’s direction.

Dean laughed cheerfully and fled into the bathroom, where Sam followed him.

“Will you wash my back?” sounded after a few absolutely unmanly giggles.

“Not only your back. Not only wash,” Sam said in a silky voice.

“Will you knot me, too?”

“Hmmm… If you manage to shut your mouth for a minute or two…”

Dean laughed again. “Can’t promise.” But very soon his laughter changed into excited moans…

 


End file.
